Together We Crumble
by Taelr
Summary: The War is over. Severus Snape and Hermione Granger are the unlikeliest of allies, but now both are wanted fugitives and they just might not have another choice. Out of options and on the run, circumstances force them together. Unwillingly, they learn to trust one another. But can they prove each other's innocence? And even if they can, will they be willing to part?
1. Fugitive

Hermione took a deep breath and opened the doors. She walked into the large room, deep as it was wide, and took her seat in the center of the floor in the single chair that waited there. She looked up into the faces of the witches and wizards of the Wizengamot, the faces of the people who would be deciding her fate. They stared back, their gazes piercing and distrustful. She glanced at the Minister of Magic, and he was looking back, but the expression on his face wasn't the picture of sureness that she would have liked. Then she let her eyes fall upon her small group of friends—her only supporters—who were seated across the room from the Wizengamot. Harry was there, along with the Weasleys and several of the Professors from Hogwarts School.

Hermione felt trapped and cornered here in this bowl-shaped room with seats rising high above her on all sides. She swallowed and looked to Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, when he cleared his throat. And then the interrogation began.

Only moments later it was coming to a close, and yet still she found it hard to breathe. It was as if there was some heavy weight on her chest, making it extremely difficult and strenuous to draw even a single breath. And as she looked around at the faces among the Wizengamot again, she felt fear coursing through her and her blood seem to run cold in her veins. Then they voted.

Hermione heard a strangle cry echo through the room, and was surprised to find that it wasn't from her own mouth. Once more, her eyes found her small group of friends. There she found shocked, disbelieving expressions, faces twisted in denial. Molly Weasley and Ginny were crying silently, though now Hermione was sure that it was older of the two women who had cried out.

Hermione turned back to face the Minister of Magic when he tapped his gavel sharply on the podium in front of him three times and the heavy, complete silence returned. He took a single moment to compose his face and his voice, and then his words boomed throughout the large room: "Hermione Granger, you have been found guilty of saving the life of, aiding and assisting, and otherwise being in conjunction with a fugitive who is wanted by the Ministry. I hereby sentence you to a lifetime spent in Azkaban Prison."

Now Hermione found that she couldn't breathe at all. She could only bow her head, nodding once and accepting her fate. She watched as the Wizengamot stood and exited the room, and then she rose from her chair and turned towards the doors. There, two aurors were already waiting to escort her out of the Ministry of Magic and to the wizard prison. In spite of the weak, frightened state she was in, she found it in herself to walk proudly, her shoulders back and her head held high.

Before she reached the aurors her friends all but ran down from their seats and surrounded her, forcing her to stop walking and turn to look at them. Ron had tears in his eyes now, too. "'Mione," he said breathlessly, "'Mione, I- I just . . ." he stopped talking and broke down crying.

She turned away from him and looked at Harry. He looked just as torn up as Ron, though his eyes were questioning. He obviously couldn't believe that this was all actually happening. "Harry," she said, smiling widely as she hugged him, probably for the last time. They exchanged terse nods, and she turned and hugged Ginny, who clung desperately to her when she tried to break away. "Ginny," she said sternly as she took the sobbing girl's arms from around her. "It's all right. Everything's going to be all right." She had only just finished speaking when Molly was there, crushing her in a bone-cracking motherly hug. Arthur patter Hermione's shoulder and shook his head, looking like he'd just lost another one of his children.

When at last Hermione managed to slip out of Molly's arms, she hugged George, who was like a brother to her. She shook Percy's hand. They had tears in their eyes, too, but she smiled at them all the same. For some reason, she hadn't started crying yet. Perhaps she was still just a bit too numb.

Then she turned back to Ron, who seemed to have gotten ahold of himself again. "I'll do whatever it takes to get you out," he said hoarsely. "I swear it, 'Mione, I swear! If it's the last thing I do, I'll get you out of there. I will!"

"Shh," she said, putting her finger to his quivering lips and shaking her head gently. "No, Ron. You're not going to get me out, you're not going to wait for me, and you're not going to obsess over helping me escape of finding a way to free me. You're going to go back to your life and forget about me."

His eyes widened. "No! I won't! I'll get you out! I will!"

"No," she said again, but now she was firmer.

"'Mione," he said quietly, "I'm not gonna leave my girlfriend to rot in prison for something she didn't do."

Hermione gave him a small smile. "You're right," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

He frowned, narrowing his eyes and searching her face because he knew that there was something more behind her words.

"Ron," she said quietly, "you're not going to let your girl rot in prison, because _you don't have a girl_."

His eyes widened slightly and the muscles in his jaw twitched. "'Mione," he began, but she cut him off.

"No, Ron. Just . . . no. You have a life to live. You're going to go and find a nice girl, and fall in love with her, and marry her and have a big family with lots of children. You're going to have a happy life, and you're going to forget that I was ever your girlfriend. Do you hear me?"

He started shaking his head, but she raised her hand, keeping him silent.

"You're going to become an auror and work for the Ministry. We both know it'd be no good for an auror to have a girlfriend who was in Azkaban. And I'm not getting out, Ron. You know that."

He was breathing hard again and more tears pooled in his eyes, running over and sliding down his cheeks. "Hermione . . ."

Not letting him finish, she stepped forward, closing the space between them, and pressed her lips to his, kissing him for the last time. All too soon, it seemed, she pulled away. "Goodbye, Ron," she said. And she turned and walked to stand by the door, between the two waiting aurors.

She nodded to them and they pushed open the door, marching out with her, one on either side. She walked proudly once more, head held high, shoulders back, lips set resolutely in a grim-but-unafraid line.

She heard her friends leaving the courtroom behind her, but did not turn to look. Passing witches and wizards stopped to watch Hermione as she was escorted out of the room and along the corridor. They were just about to enter the lift when Kingsley practically flew down the corridor and stopped them. He looked at the aurors. "We will go to my office."

The two wizards guarding her exchanged a glance, but they nodded to the Minister. Then the four of them entered the lift. They stepped off moments later and walked to Kingsley's office. Outside of the door he turned to the aurors once more. "You will wait here," he ordered. "I must speak to her privately, and then we will take her to Azkaban."

Once again, the two wizards exchanged a glance, but once again, they nodded. Kingsley nodded back and then opened the door and let Hermione in first. He closed the door behind her and walked up to his broad desk, but rather than going to sit behind it, he turned to face her. She stood in the middle of the room, but didn't feel threatened or cornered, not when Kingsley's kind, apologetic eyes were the only ones looking at her.

She was more than surprised when he turned suddenly away from her, so that he was facing the fireplace. He took a velvet bag the size of his fist from its peg on the wall. Then he drew a leather bag twice the size of the first, along with her wand, from his robes. He held the leather bag and the wand out to her and Hermione felt her eyes widen as the bag clinked, obviously containing money. She looked up into his face, not touching the bag. "Sir?" she asked, the word no more than a breath leaving her lips.

He pushed the leather bag and the wand into her hands and opened the velvet bag, holding it out to her. "Quickly! You must go now."

Hermione took a handful of powder from the bag and stepped into the fireplace, turning to face him as she tucked her wand and the bag into her own robes.

"I trust you have that beaded bag somewhere on your person, and that it has whatever you might need stored within it?" he asked, not waiting for her to respond to his earlier words.

She nodded dumbly.

"Good," was all he said.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, speaking with their eyes. She was thanking him while also asking him a million questions, and he was telling her to go, but also apologizing that she was being forced to run.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

He nodded. "I know the truth about you, and about _him_," he said. "Neither of you deserve this, but both of you must make yourselves scarce until I can sort things out here. Feel free to floo here if you ever have need of something—after hours, of course. And you do know that you cannot return to your friends? They will be questioned as soon as word gets out that you have escaped. " Then he nodded towards the place she'd stored the bag and said, "That contains our money and muggle money. Use it well."

They exchanged one more nod, and then Hermione said clearly, "Diagon Alley," and threw the powder down at her feet. Green flames leapt up, consuming her, and then she was gone from the Minister's office. He nodded to the empty fireplace and muttered, "Good luck," before pointing his wand at the wall and blowing a hole in it. Then he started shouting and rushing about his office, pointing his wand out the gaping new orifice there and yelling curses and spells at the street, where the illusion of a young woman was rushing away. The aurors burst in through the door and leapt out of the opening in the wall, charging after the woman, who was still running. She went round a corner only seconds before they did, but when they turned onto the alley, she was gone.

Kingsley continued to shout, but stopped his carefully-thought silent incantation, no longer generating the illusion of the escaping girl. He then rushed out of his office, alerting everyone else there that Hermione Granger had escaped and was now a fugitive on the run.

He spent the afternoon organizing aurors into parties that would hunt for her, and put a price on her head. _The Daily Prophet_ was more than eager to have the story as soon as possible, and they didn't even want to be paid for featuring an article on the two escaped fugitives; they just wanted the full story and the details, which Kingsley gave. Hermione's friends were all brought back to the Ministry to be questioned, and they were given veritaserum for their interrogations, but none of them knew a thing about Hermione's escape or where she might be. Because they were useless without information, they were released and allowed to return to their homes.

Unbeknownst to the Ministry and its workers, Minerva McGonagall organized a meeting, which took place at Hogwarts the very next day. Harry, the Weasleys, the Lovegoods, Neville Longbottom, and Pomona Sprout were present at the meeting.

It had only been a week since the Battle of Hogwarts, and it was very difficult for the Weasleys to return so soon after losing Fred, but they came anyway. Everyone had lost someone in the battle or in the war, and they had only been free of the dark lord for a week, so none of them were quite recovered yet. And here, after the war and everything was over, they'd lost Hermione. Or they had been about to lose her, before she "escaped."

McGonagall had everyone seated at one of the tables in a corner of the Great Hall. No one had been back to Hogwarts after all of the deceased had been taken away by their families and the other participants in the battle had left, so the school was empty besides the ghosts, who came around and joined the meeting.

McGonagall cleared her throat, and everyone fell silent, watching. "It has occurred to you all, I'm sure," she said, "just how difficult it would be to get past the Minister of Magic, should he want to stop you."

There were nods all around.

"Then I assume you have all come to the same conclusion that I have; Kingsley allowed Miss Granger to escape and created a diversion so that she could do so without being followed."

Everyone nodded again.

McGonagall was silent, then, and everyone started talking at once. Kingsley had been on their side multiple times before, and as he was a former member of the Order of the Phoenix, they had expected him to know that Hermione was innocent, as was the man she had saved.

"Now," said Arthur, causing the others to quiet down, "there is more to think about. No doubt the Ministry will be keeping a close eye on all of us because they'll suspect that we're helping Hermione, so as much as we want to, we shouldn't try to contact her or meet her anywhere. It would be extremely dangerous for her _and_ for us if we did so."

"Knowing Hermione," Harry said, "she'll be perfectly fine blending in with muggles. I'm sure she had her beaded bag with her in the courtroom, and no doubt Kingsley gave back her wand before she left. That means she'll have muggle clothes and a bit of muggle money. She's brilliant; she'll set up protective boundaries and such wherever she decides to stay. And we'd only just come back from hunting horcruxes, so she's still got our extra tent and a lot of supplies and things. She knows how to take care of herself, even if she lives in the wilderness for a while. She'll be just fine."

Everyone nodded, and the talking picked up again.

And Hermione was just fine. She did have the tent and the supplies, along with the money Kingsley had given her and the money she'd had beforehand. She'd flooed to Diagon Alley so that she wasn't seen by her friends, and from there she'd gone back into the Leaky Cauldron, out of which she had stepped back into the muggle world. While she was in Diagon Alley and the Leaky Cauldron, she'd had the hood of her cloak pulled over her head. And once she entered the muggle world again, she had stepped into the nearest loo and changed into muggle clothing.

Now she was back in the Forest of Dean, where she and Harry had camped not long before, and where Ron had used the deluminator to find them again and come back. This was where they'd found the sword of Gryffindor. This was where Harry had seen Snape's patronus.

A chill ran down Hermione's spine when she thought of Snape. She held her cup of tea close and sat down on the edge of her bed in the tent, sipping the hot liquid and wishing she didn't feel so cold, so alone. Part of her wondered, _where was Snape now?_

She hoped the man was still on the run. He'd better not get himself caught; he was after all the reason _she_ was now forced to run. It wasn't his fault, not really, but the greasy git better be alive and free still after all this trouble she was going through.

She hadn't actually saved his life. Rather, after Harry had taken her and Ron aside and told them in full about Snape's memories, she'd felt sorry for the potions professor and gone back to retrieve his body. Ron had refused to go with her, so she'd gone back to the shrieking shack alone, and there she'd found Snape, quite bloody and seemingly quite dead. She'd only just taken out her wand to lift his body magically and float it back to the castle when a flash of bright red feathers had caught her eye. Seconds later, a phoenix had landed lightly on Snape's chest, clinging to his robes. Hermione had been too shocked to react, and had only watched as the beautiful bird bent its head over Snape's gaping neck wounds and several tears fell into the gashes in the man's flesh. The wounds had shimmered, steaming slightly, and then they closed off, healing until there was nothing left but thin, pale scars.

Hermione had heard of Dumbledore's pet phoenix, Fawkes, but had only seen the bird once and it had been a fleeting glance, at that. She couldn't be sure whether this phoenix that had healed Snape was Fawkes or another bird. They were supposed to be extremely rare. She had puzzled over this momentarily and then, just as suddenly as it had come, the phoenix was gone, soaring back through the tunnel that led out of the shack.

Hermione had stood there, stunned, and watched as the man's chest began to rise and fall ever-so-slightly. She had been convinced that he was dead, but for Fawkes to heal him he would have to be alive. So she assumed that he must have been slipping away, on death's door, barely holding on to life. She had watched, awestruck by the power of phoenix tears, as Snape opened his eyes, which focused on her immediately.

And just then, several aurors from the Ministry had burst in from the tunnel. When they got to their feet, they looked from Hermione to Snape and back again, and then all of them had pointed their wands at Snape. They began spouting off plenty of talk about how Snape was a wanted man and he would pay for his crimes by going to Azkaban, and how he didn't even deserve death because he had killed Dumbledore, and countless others before that.

Not knowing why she did it, Hermione had suddenly pointed her wand at the three wizards and shouted the first spell that came to mind. The Ministry wizards were thrown backwards against the wall, and all but one had been knocked unconscious. Hermione had then pointed her wand at the still-conscious one and said, "Stupefy!"

Then she had turned back to Snape, who was recovered enough to get to his feet, though he was leaning against the wall for support. He raised his eyebrows at her, and his eyes were still cold, but there was a strange, grateful look in them. He then stepped away from the wall, towards the tunnel, and left the room. Hermione waited several moments, trying to get over her shock as she looked over the ministry workers she'd just attacked, and then she too left the shrieking shack. To her surprise, Snape had been standing there, near the tree. Though she didn't like to think of it that way, she had no choice but to assume that he'd been waiting for her. She stood there, glancing at the paralyzed whomping willow beside her before she looked back to Snape, who was watching her.

Unwillingly, she met his eyes, and though he didn't thank her with his words, his gaze said enough. Likewise, she didn't thank him for all those times he's been helping her and Harry and Ron, or at least, not verbally. She returned his grateful gaze for a moment and then both of them looked away. Without a single word, they nodded once to each other and parted ways. Hermione turned back towards the castle, and Snape walked away from it and towards the protective boundaries near the forbidden forest. Hermione knew that he would cross the boundaries and then disapparate. When she reached the castle courtyard she turned and looked back, and sure enough, he was gone.

Hermione had entered the school to find Harry and Ron and tell them about what had happened, and they hadn't looked half as concerned as she felt over the unconscious Ministry wizards who were sure to wake up soon. But as it turned out, she had been concerned for the right reasons; as soon as they did regain consciousness they stormed in, and before she knew what was happening Hermione was taken into the Ministry by Kingsley, who was unwilling but had no other choice.

Harry and Ron had rallied together a small group of people who would support Hermione and speak on her behalf, but none of them had gotten the chance to testify because the Wizengamot had decided right off that this was about Hermione and none of her friends' opinions could do anything to change her fate. She was accused of somehow saving Snape's life and then of preventing the Ministry wizards from doing their jobs and bringing him to the Ministry, therefore aiding him in his escape. And that was how she ended up at the Ministry, in the courtroom, feeling trapped and cornered and knowing that she deserved to be punished for attacking Ministry aurors but not feeling in the least bit sorry for what she'd done. She didn't regret it.

She had still been wondering then just why it was that when she was faced with a choice between the Ministry wizards and Snape, she'd chosen to attack the wizards. She supposed that she _had_ saved his life in that, had he been taken in by the wizards, he'd be in Azkaban and not free. Or he'd be a dead man. But now she knew why she had chosen to help Snape escape. She'd acted on a whim, not thinking ahead or planning. She'd basically just seen Snape resurrected, and she didn't want to see him sent to Azkaban in the same moment. She'd been overcome by the idea of the phoenix tears being wasted or use to bring back a man who would have been better off dead, and had acted on impulse. But even after she realized why she had done it, she still didn't regret attacking those wizards.

With a sigh, Hermione came back to the present. She was in the Forest of Dean. She was on the run. She was a wanted fugitive with a price on her head. Her friends couldn't help her, because then they would get into trouble. She was completely alone, and the feeling was intensified by the emptiness of the large tent and the knowledge that it was so quiet because she was the only one there. She needed to look at her options, to start planning where she would go next. But she had time. She had already set up the protective boundaries around the place she was camped, and she wasn't far from the river, so she had a source of water. There wasn't exactly a pub nearby where she could get a drink and a hot meal, but her months spent with Harry and Ron had done her good, and she'd done a little reading, so now she was familiar with the wild herbs and plants that grew nearby and could be eaten.

Setting her unfinished tea on the desk beside the small bunk where she would sleep, Hermione curled up beneath the quilts even though she hadn't changed into her night things and it was midday. She didn't want to be running in her pajamas if something happened in the middle of her nap, and preferred the idea of being ready. But she needed her rest, as she hadn't gotten much in the last week. She didn't fall asleep for quite some time, and when she did, she tossed and turned, and didn't feel relieved or rested in the least when she woke that afternoon.

She felt both thrilled and terrified at the idea of running, and at the knowledge that she was in this alone. Yes, she could go back to Kingsley's office, but only after hours and only if she flooed into his fireplace. It would be impossible to apparate right into the Ministry of Magic, and visiting any local fireplace that was in the floo network would be very dangerous, as she could easily be recognized. She could trust no one, she had no one to rely on, and the only person she could depend on and turn to was herself.

She never did come to the realization that there was one other person who was on the run as well, one other person who had no one to turn to, and one other person alone who she could perhaps put her trust in. And even if it had occurred to her—which it didn't—that there was _someone_, the last person she wanted to trust at the moment was Severus Snape, even if she knew the truth about him and didn't have any other choice.

**Hey there. I'm super-excited about this story, as it will be quite a bit different than my previous one, though of course there will still be the romance between Snape and Hermione! I've been deciding which idea of mine to start writing about, and in the end this idea won over the others! **

**This time around I probably won't be able to update every day, but I will update at least once a week, I promise! Besides, I usually get into the story just as much as you guys do, so I'll probably be updating every couple of days. **

**I know this chapter wasn't the longest, but it's the first one and I'm still working out exactly where this story is going, so bear with me. Leave a review? I'd love to hear what you thought of it, and if you have any comments/advice/corrections they're always more than welcome. Have a magical day! ~Taelr**


	2. The Hog's Head

Hermione liked the Forest of Dean, but it was hard for her to be there, because she was often reminded of her parents. At the moment Mr. and Mrs. Granger were happily living in Australia, and neither of them knew that magic existed or that they had a daughter. Hermione had planned on going back to Australia and restoring their memories, but now she couldn't. For one thing, she couldn't just apparate to them, as the Ministry of Magic would probably be watching all of her friends and her parents, suspecting that she would come to them for help. And for another, even if the Ministry hadn't been watching her parents, she didn't want to restore their memories only to have them discover that their daughter was a fugitive because she had assisted a man who had a price on his head.

It wasn't easy, knowing that they didn't even remember her, but she found solace in the fact that they were probably very happy where they were. She wanted to think that they would be furious with her, finding out, rather than just completely disappointed in her. She'd always worked so hard at doing her best—and better—at things, at succeeding at anything she tried, learning everything she could. And yet here she was, one of the two most wanted people in the wizarding world. Sure, there were still a small group of Death Eaters who had fled upon the dark lord's demise, but the Ministry thought Snape and Hermione were in league with each other and were plotting something dark and terrible, so the two of them were at the top of the "wanted" list.

Hermione chose a strawberry from the bowl in front of her and bit into it, trying to enjoy the flavor and forget about the many questions that surfaced in her mind every time she thought of Snape. Was he still on the run? Or had he been caught? Was he in Azkaban, then? Or was he still breathing free air? Was he even breathing at all? What if something had happened? Was he dead? Had he heard that Hermione was a fugitive like himself? And if so, had he even given her a second thought?

She glanced at the radio, which sat on the table beside the bowl of strawberries. She'd listened to it each evening since she'd "escaped" from Kingsley's office, but in the entire four days that had passed since then, there had been no word on Snape. There had been mentions of chaos at the Ministry after she left it, and the wizarding world had been warned that Hermione Granger was on the loose and that she was a very smart—and therefore very dangerous—witch. But still no news of Snape.

Sighing, she reached out and pressed a button on the radio, turning the dial and waiting until it caught a signal. When it did, she listened intently for a few moments. But this was nothing new; they were discussing the repairs and reconstruction that had begun now that Voldemort—not many witches and wizards were afraid to say his name out loud anymore—was defeated and the war was over. Hermione turned the radio off and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes.

She had tried to keep herself busy, and had succeeded . . . for a while. She'd gone out, keeping careful watch around her, and found a patch of wild strawberries. She'd picked herbs and even found watercress growing in one of the calmer inlets on the nearby river. She'd made herself some salad from the watercress and the herbs, and was eating a mostly vegetarian diet simply because of the lack of available meat. She'd gotten water and purified it with magic, storing quite a bit away in some of the many flasks and canteens she kept in her beaded bag.

Hermione welcomed the work and the challenges, and was quick to try whatever popped into her head. She hated the free time she was left with and tried to fill it with anything and everything she could think of. Without something to focus on, her mind wandered to Snape, to her parents, to her friends, to the Minister, to the predicament she was in, and to the people she'd lost in the war. It was still too soon after the Battle of Hogwarts for her to be able to control her thoughts correctly, and if she didn't concentrate on steering her thoughts away, they would drift to Fred and Collin Creevey and Sirius Black and Lupin and Tonks and Dobby and all of the friends she'd lost.

She'd thought it was hard when she was surrounded by friends, but it was a living hell, being stuck out in the wilderness with all this pain and sadness and no one to talk to. She had no one to confide in, no one to cry to about how much she missed her friends that had been killed. She didn't dare say a word out loud when she was outside of the protective boundaries she'd set up around her campsite, but she'd never been one to talk to herself, so she lived in silence. And the silence was killing her.

Not that she didn't learn to appreciate the sounds of the forest around her. She had become accustomed to the trilling of the birds singing, the wind rustling the leaves on the trees, the noise of the river in the distance. She appreciated nature and liked the sounds it made, but they weren't enough. They weren't a friend's quiet, comforting voice responding to the hurt she was feeling.

Biting her lip, Hermione stood up. She couldn't just sit around like this or before long she'd go crazy. She was sure she'd seen some kind of fish in the river the last time she'd been there, and decided it was time for a little protein in her diet. Just that morning she had changed the enchantments around her campsite, stretching them to a place on the edge of the river so that she would be safe and undetected even there.

She reached absently into the pocket in her jumper that held her beaded bag, snatched her wand from the table, and headed out the door. The river was a matter of yards from her tent, and she remained within the protective boundaries, but still she kept to the shadows and kept a close watch on everything around her. She knew it was foolish to be so cautious when she was invisible to the outside world, but being alone like this made her more nervous and jumpy than usual. The sun was beginning to set, so there were plenty of shadows to hide in. She made it to the river's edge and looked out over the water. A small, dark shape moved through the shallow water near the bank, and Hermione pointed her wand towards the shape. She let her eyes leave the surface of the water momentarily to sweep the opposite bank and the darkening forest around her, and then she breathed, "Accio fish."

Had she been with friends and not a fugitive, she probably would have laughed at the absurd sight of a small fish floating through the air towards her, but she remained silent. She caught the fish in her hand, ignoring the slimy texture of its scales and clamping her fingers tightly around it to prevent it from wriggling free. Her eyes darted around her once more and then she slunk through the shadows and back to her tent.

She'd never done much cooking before, but there had been several occasions where she helped her mum in the kitchen, so she wasn't completely inept at making meals. She cleaned the fish, making a face but not wrinkling her nose as she cut it open and gutted it. She was a fugitive living in the wilderness, after all; she was going to need to learn how to take care of herself and use what nature provided around her.

She placed the head, tail, scales and innards in a bucket beside her and then sliced the meat and dropped it in pan over the fire to cook. She waved her wand at the bucket and muttered, "Evanesco," and its contents vanished.

She sat down and watched the fish frying, flipping it over and then taking the pan from the flames when the meat was finished. She made herself a watercress and herb salad and ate that with her fish, and the meal was actually quite good, aside from the many times she had to pluck a thin bone from the meat in her mouth or on her plate.

She had only just finished and cleaned her plate when the sound of a twig or branch breaking outside shattered the near-perfect silence. Hermione froze. There was an overwhelming wave of paralyzing fear that crashed over her, but then it was gone just as quickly as it had come and she was able to move again. Now she went on the defensive, moving to the corner of the tent and holding her wand at the ready. She waited, breathing lightly, barely daring to draw air into her lungs for fear of being heard. Whoever was on the outside of her campsite and the protective enchantments couldn't see the tent, she was sure, but then what were they doing there? They shouldn't have been able to see or hear her when she caught her fish on the bank of the river, and there should be no sign of her in the forest at all.

She bit her lip and kept waiting. She glanced at her watch. When at last a full five minutes had passed without a sound, she relaxed her tense muscles and came out of her defensive position in the corner. But she stayed quiet, and walked on silent feet to the table in the middle of the room. _It was probably just a deer or something,_ she reasoned with herself. _Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all._

Hermione took a slow, deep breath and let it out just as slowly. Her enchantments were working. She needed to calm down and stop doubting herself. Taking another deep breath, she walked to the door of the tent and threw it open, holding her wand ready and expecting the worst. She looked into the darkness around her tent, but there was nothing. The leaves rustled quietly in the trees and the crickets continued to chirp as if nothing had happened. Hermione actually circled the tent, gazing intently into the darkness. But there was no one there. Just to be sure, she pointed her wand away from her and whispered, "Homenum revelio."

When nothing happened, she let her breathing return to normal and entered the tent once more, closing the door behind her. She brushed her teeth before curling up in bed, but as usual, she couldn't fall asleep right away and had to wait until her mind shut down.

That night she dreamed that Snape was caught and hauled off to the Ministry, where he was tried, and then taken to Azkaban. The dream was so terrible that when she woke in the morning she couldn't shake the feeling that something had actually happened. She might not care _that_ much about Snape, but she was horrified by the idea of his capture and then incarceration. She flipped hurriedly through the frequencies on the radio, but not a single one mentioned the capture of a fugitive, and she was sure that it would have been big enough news that everyone would be talking about it. So she pushed away the thoughts of Snape's capture and tried to focus on making herself some breakfast.

Two days later she decided that even though there were no signs of anyone discovering her whereabouts or even guessing them anytime soon, she ought to move on, just to be safe. So early in the morning, when the sun was just beginning to rise, she stored the tent in her bag, along with plenty of water and extra watercress and herbs she had gathered, and disapparated after she lifted the enchantments there.

She began retracing the path that she, Harry and Ron had taken while hunting horcruxes. Even if Ron hadn't been there for part of the time, she knew that Harry remembered each and every place they'd stayed. Part of her hoped that maybe he'd guess she was retracing their steps, but she doubted he would have enough time free of the Ministry's eyes to apparate away and look for her. She wished that she could somehow let him know where she was without alerting the Ministry, but there didn't seem to be a way.

There was no set amount of time she spent in any one place. She'd spent almost a week in the Forest of Dean, and then only three days near Godric's Hollow before she moved on to the lake outside of London where she and her friends had flown to on the back of a dragon. Now she had spent four days here, and she was deciding how much longer she wanted to stay.

It was difficult, going back to the places they'd been on the horcrux hunt. It wasn't always a pleasant experience, recalling the things that had happened where she was, and there was no comfort in coming back to the present and remembering why she had returned there.

She smiled to herself as she worked at changing a small section of branch into a loaf of bread, thinking of Ron. Half of her desperately wanted him to give up on her and move on, going on to live his own life. And half of her clung to the hope that he would never truly give up on her and that one day this would all be over and they would be reunited.

After several more failed attempts at her transfiguration with the section of branch, she let out her breath in a huff and tossed the thing out the door of the tent. As the days passed, she was getting a bit more used to being a wanted fugitive. She wasn't quite so nervous or jumpy anymore, and she never flinched or froze up when there was an unfamiliar noise outside of the tent or beyond her enchantments. Now she always had her wand ready, and at the slightest sign that something was wrong she would slink from shadow to shadow or hiding place to hiding place, ready to attack or defend herself as was necessary.

Now, a full two weeks after she'd "escaped" from the Ministry, she'd never actually had an encounter with anyone. She hadn't been discovered or caught, and as far as she could tell, the Ministry aurors who were sure to be hunting her hadn't a clue where to begin. And they seemed to have no idea where she was or where she might go besides her parents and her friends. She was sure they were also watching the house that had once been her family's, but when her parents left for Australia they sold the house, and a family of harmless muggles were currently living there. She had no intention of going back to the house anyways.

Hermione was rather good at magic, particularly at transfiguration, but she just couldn't seem to get the hang of making rocks and logs into edible food like bread or meat. So she decided it was time to go back amongst the muggles for a while. She frowned for a moment, wondering whether the Ministry was watching Number twelve, Grimmauld Place. It seemed likely, and she didn't want to risk it. So she packed the tent and all of the provisions she had left safely away in her beaded bag. She carefully undid the enchantments she'd cast around her camp, in the fringe of trees on the edge of the lake.

And then she apparated to London, straight into the corner of a small super market there. Smiling to herself, she found her way to the bathroom and made sure she was in a presentable muggle state before she went back out into the store, walking through the aisles of shelves and racks. As she chose food from the shelves and chilling cabinets and racks, she thought back to the time before she'd known she was a witch. This store was a place not too far from her home, a place she'd come to with her mother for years, ever since she was a baby. Even now, years since the last time she'd been here, she knew her way around and exactly where everything was.

She took her armful of assorted fruits, vegetables, dried meats and canned goods to the front of the shop to pay for them. She left the place with her hands full of bags, and ducked into an empty alley to stow the food in her beaded bag, which she tucked back in her pocket. She was wearing muggle clothes and looked like your normal, everyday person walking down the street, but her wand was hidden just inside her jumper and she was ready to pull it out at a moment's notice.

She found that it was quite nice to mix with muggles. Any contact with other people was something she'd been longing for, and she went out of her way to start conversations with shopkeepers and whoever she met. It was so lovely to be among other people and holding actual conversations that she stayed there for an entire week, spending her days in the city and among the people, and her nights alone in her tent, which was set up in the forest just outside of town.

After her week was up, she went back to retracing the path of the horcrux hunt. She started wondering about places where fugitives would be welcome, and thought about Knockturn Alley. She didn't know whether there was a pub or an inn, or something there where she could get a hot drink and maybe pick up some news or rumors. Surely there had to be someplace she could go and show her face without being turned in to the Ministry?

It was then that she thought of the Hog's Head. She wasn't sure what Aberforth Dumbledore knew of her becoming a fugitive, and she had no way of knowing whether or not he believed what everyone was saying she had done. But she longed for the taste of butterbeer and the feeling of warmth spreading through her whenever she drank it. Besides, she knew how to defend herself and she wasn't so bad or inexperienced at making hasty exits. So she decided to go.

She apparated into Hogsmeade in the late afternoon, when she was sure the Hog's Head would still be open and full of other patrons. She glanced longingly at The Three Broomsticks, wishing she could enter and see Madam Rosmerta's smiling face. But it wasn't a good idea at the moment, so she turned her back on the place. She had pulled the hood of her cloak over her head to hide her face, and she was dressed in her cloak and robes so that she would blend in with the witches and wizards around her. There were several people on the street, but none of them gave her a second glance as she walked towards the Hog's Head. No one paid her any attention and when she entered, and not even one of the magical folk inside looked up to see who she was.

She found an empty table in a dark corner and looked around the room. There were plenty of strange, suspicious-looking people around, and she thought she must look suspicious only because she didn't quite fit in with the rest of them.

Aberforth Dumbledore was busy serving drinks, and only he noticed when someone new walked through the door. It was a witch, he was sure, though he couldn't see her face because her hood was pulled up. She kept mostly to the shadows and found a table in the darkest corner of the room. She looked a bit out of place, her robes nicer and better-kept than those of the people around her. But she looked just as careful and shifty-eyed as the rest of them, always on her guard. Aberforth ambled over, wondering who the witch was and what had brought her to his inn. He always wondered about the history and stories of the patrons that came here for a drink or a room, but this witch seemed more unreadable and secretive even than most of the usuals.

She looked up at him, but was careful to keep her face in the shadow of her cloak when he asked what she wanted. She ordered a hot meal and a butterbeer, and he nodded before turning to leave her. He could feel her eyes on his back and found that while he was usually just a bit interested in the identity of his patrons, this witch held his attention and his curiosity.

Not too much later, he was walking towards her with a plate of food in one hand and a large tankard of butterbeer in the other. She glanced up at him while he was on his way to her table, and he noticed that in order to see him properly she had to reach up and hold the side of her hood out of her face. He caught a fleeting glimpse of it before she released the hood and her face was shadowed again, but it was enough. He stopped in his tracks, right in the middle of the room, and stared at her. No one else noticed his sudden halt, but he saw her tense visibly at his actions.

Hermione fought back panic. He'd seen her face. He knew who she was. Part of her wanted to leave the inn and disapparate as quickly as possible, but something held her in her seat. The old man stared at her for a moment longer and then he resumed his previous pace, setting her food in front of her, along with her drink. She looked up at him, wondering if she should bolt out the door now or wait for him to make a move first. But his piercing blue eyes, so much like those of his brother, twinkled kindly down at her.

He leaned down slightly, though to anyone else in the room it looked as if he was pushing her food in front of her and trying to straighten a crick in his old back. "Perhaps you would prefer to get a room for the night and dine there?" he asked, his voice so much like Albus Dumbledore's had been that it sent chills down her spine.

She searched his face, trying to find anything there that might give away whether he was planning on helping her or turning her in. But his eyes continued to twinkle kindly down at her, so she nodded slowly. A smile split across his ancient face, and he nodded to her, picking up her food and tankard of butterbeer once again. She rose from her seat slowly, still a bit unsure of whether she trusted him or not. But her instincts were telling her that he could be trusted, so she followed him through a door and up a crooked flight of stairs. He stopped in front of a door and nodded to her. She tried the handle and it was unlocked, so she pushed it open.

The innkeeper stepped inside and Hermione followed. The room was small, with an even smaller bathroom connected to it, but the bed looked soft and the place didn't smell too bad, so she supposed that perhaps it was so bad after all. Aberforth set her meal on a small table and walked back to the door. Hermione reached into her pocket to draw out her beaded bag so she could pay him, but he guessed what she was doing and raised a hand to stop her. "No charge," he said quietly.

Before Hermione could argue or thank him for his kindness, he was gone and the door closed behind him, locking itself with a click.

Hermione looked around the room and went to sit on the edge of the bed. It _was_ soft, and much softer than the small bunk where she'd spent her nights in the tent for the past few weeks. But as much as she wanted to fall back onto it and let sleep overtake her, she couldn't do so. She took out her wand and went to look at the window beside the bed. She looked through it, and was pleased to note that because she was only on the second floor, she could jump out of her window in the event of an emergency, and sustain only minor injuries if she did. She didn't feel particularly compelled to go throwing herself out windows, but if Aberforth _did_ alert the Ministry to her presence at the inn, then she would need a way of escape besides the staircase.

She supposed that the innkeeper could be waiting for her to fall asleep, planning to alert the Ministry in the late hours of night so that she wouldn't be ready. So she curled her knees up to her chest and sat on her bed to wait. But she was so tired and the bed was so comfortable that she fell asleep right there, with her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin resting on her knees.

She woke up in the morning with a start, and tensed; she was used to waking up to the tent around her, and now she was in an actual room with wooden walls, ceiling, and floor. She remembered where she was and blinked, rubbing sleep from her eyes and looking toward the window. The sun was well above the horizon, and it was mid-morning, perhaps even getting close to noon. Hermione was surprised that she'd slept so long.

Well, she was still there, still breathing free—and a bit stale and unpleasant—air, and still safe but right under the Ministry's nose. That meant that Dumbledore's brother hadn't turned her in and he was actually on her side. She frowned; already she'd grown accustomed to the idea that she could put her faith in no one, and it seemed strange for her to think anyone trustworthy.

She rose, made her bed, and pulled an apple and a canteen of water from her beaded bag. She had these for breakfast, brushing her teeth and then stowing her belongings back in her bag. She waved her wand at the crumpled mess of fabric that was her robes, and they smoothed themselves out and looked presentable and clean again. She smiled at herself in the dirty mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door and then went to look out the window again. It was the very beginning of July, and already the sun had started shedding its warmth on the town of Hogsmeade.

She turned in surprise when someone knocked on her door, and was immediately on her guard. Had Aberforth alerted the Ministry after all? Or was he the one knocking? She narrowed her eyes at the door, as if it had made the offensive knocking noise that she found so alarming. Whoever it was knocked again, and she realized that they were knocking lightly and as if they didn't want to draw too much attention to themselves, standing out there in the hall.

Hermione approached the door slowly, standing a few feet away from it, and pointed her wand. It swung open at her muttered incantation and she stood there, pointing her wand at the young man standing in the hallway. His eyes were wide and his fist was lifted, as he had been about to knock again when she opened the door.

Hermione's mind went blank momentarily, her surprise was so great. Then she squeaked, "Harry!" and jumped forward, remembering to grab his wrist and pull him through the door before she closed it and tackled him with a hug.

He grinned and stood up, helping her to her feet before he hugged her back. Then he stepped back and looked her over, as if to be sure she was still whole and pieces of her weren't missing. She smiled and waited for him to finish his inspection, and then she hugged him again. She sat on the end of her bed and he sat in the single chair by the small table and they faced each other. Hermione cast a charm to keep anything they said from passing through the walls for other ears to hear.

Before Harry could say a word, Hermione asked, "How's Ron? Where is he?"

Harry could read her expression as if she'd written her emotions on a page of paper and given them to him to read. "Ron's fine," he said. "He's at the Burrow with his family. I know he would have wanted to see you, but the Ministry's been watching the Weasleys like hawks. Even more carefully than they watch me. I couldn't even tell him that I knew you were safe and that I could see you."

Hermione looked at Harry as if she was a starving person and each word he gave her was a bit of food. Her expression changed and she frowned. "How did you know where I was?"

Harry grinned. "Aberforth," was all he said.

She nodded, "Oh." Then her expression clouded again and she asked, "If you haven't been living with the Weasleys then where are you staying?"

"Number twelve, Grimmauld Place," he said. "It's not so bad, and with the invisibility cloak I make it in and out just fine."

Seeing Hermione's questioning look, he added, "They—the Ministry—don't know I've been staying there. I . . . may have led them to believe that I've been meeting up with you and traveling with you quite often. They're going mad trying to trace the places I apparate to and they can't find any connection between the places or how often you seem to change locations."

Hermione stared at him, a wide smile splitting across her face. "You're brilliant, you know that?" she said.

He blushed. "It wasn't really my idea. The Order of the Phoenix is back, Hermione. We've been meeting at Hogwarts regularly, and so far the Ministry hasn't caught on. Even Kingsley's made it to a couple of the meetings. But we'll only be able to keep this up for so long; school starts in September and the Ministry is collaborating with McGonagall to repair the castle starting next month. She's politely refused their offers to help with the repairs so far, but she and Professors Flitwick and Sprout can only do so much on their own, and they're going to have to accept the help eventually if they want the school to be fit for housing students by September."

This was so much for Hermione to take in. The Order of the Phoenix was back, and several of the professors from the school were still on Hermione's side and were meeting in secret, trying help her. She had so many questions to ask, but settled for the most important one she could think of. "How often does the Order meet, and when's the next meeting?"

He smiled. "The Weasleys think they might make it to that one, but they'll have to get past their personal guards first. Anyways, we don't meet after any set amount of time, it's always different. We can't have the Ministry catching on. Oh, and Kingsley might show up, too. But we're planning to meet this coming Saturday." He smiled at the excited look of anticipation that was obvious in Hermione's face and asked, "How long are you planning on staying here?"

Hermione shrugged, shaking her head. "I'm not sure. Maybe one more night, at the most. Then I'll set up the tent somewhere nearby so I can apparate in and out of Hogsmeade as I please." She noted the worried look on his face and added, "Don't worry; I'll be careful. Besides, I'm actually not so bad at blending in and disappearing. I promise, I'll be fine."

Harry nodded. They were quiet for a moment, both thinking, and then he spoke again. "Oh yeah, don't go to the Three Broomsticks; Aberforth says that they've got Ministry aurors there waiting for you to show." He shook his head. "It's like they can't make up their minds whether they think you're really stupid or really smart; they set up aurors to wait for you in the most obvious places, and then they also tighten security at the Ministry and in all the higher places that it would be impossible for you to break into."

Hermione laughed quietly, and he chuckled with her. It was the first time either of them had laughed in a while, and it felt good.

"Where've you been, anyways?" he asked.

She smiled. "Retracing our steps while we were hunting for horcruxes, mostly."

He nodded. "I wondered if that's what you were doing. It's brilliant; the Ministry has no clue where we went while we were doing that, so they'll have no way of guessing where you are. You could just keep going back from place to place, down the list, over and over again until we figure out some way to clear your name."

Hermione smiled wryly, "I'll probably go back, yes. But don't get too worked up over clearing my name; it might not ever happen."

He shook his head, but they didn't start arguing over it. Instead, they were quiet for a bit.

"I should probably get back to Number twelve," Harry said after a moment. "And back to 'visiting you' somewhere else."

Hermione nodded, smiling sadly, and they both stood up. They walked to the door and shared one last hug. "Give everyone my best," Hermione said.

Harry grinned at her and winked. "I always do," he said.

She grinned back at him. Then he was gone.

**First I want to say thank you for all of the reviews I got on the first chapter! They were all lovely and made me even more excited about writing this story. And so many of you have followed/favorited it already! I'm so happy! Anyways, here's chapter two (as if that wasn't obvious) and I hope you enjoyed it. It's a bit longer than the last chapter, but not so action-packed. If you've got a spare moment I'd love to hear what you thought, and any constructive critiquing you have for me is totally welcome! Thanks again! ~Taelr**


	3. You're Welcome

Hermione made it to the meeting at Hogwarts on Saturday and was thrilled to see the other members of the Order. The Weasleys and Kingsley were able to make it as well, and she was pleased to see them. Kingsley seemed mightily pleased and impressed that she hadn't been caught yet and was getting along just fine, and everyone seemed incredibly happy to see her. She had gotten an especially breath-taking, rib-cracking hug from Molly Weasley and Ginny, who converged on her at the same exact time. As a result she had almost suffocated, but they let go just in time for her to continue living. Hermione was also thrilled to see Ron, but she kept this to herself and settled for sending a simple, friendly smile his way even though his entire face lit up with affection and concern as soon as he saw her.

When the meeting was over, everyone left. However, Hermione got plenty of time to hug and catch up with the Weasleys and Neville and Luna and Harry and everyone else. They left the school grounds one at a time and not in a group, and Hermione was the only one to apparate to the forest outside of Hogsmeade. It was still only midday, and she didn't usually go to the Hog's Head for dinner until later in the afternoon, so she stayed in her tent. She made herself a simple lunch of some bread and cheese (Molly had been bringing Harry baskets of delicious food whenever she made it to the meetings, and she'd duplicated Harry's so Hermione could have one as well) and sat at the small table in the tent.

She spent the next few hours listening to the radio and practicing her transfiguration. At last it was about the time she usually went to Hogsmeade, and she snatched her wand and beaded bag from the desk near her bed. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head before walking out of the enchantments around the tent. Then she apparated to Hogsmeade.

As she did every night, she found herself glancing longingly at the Three Broomsticks. And as she did every night, she began to turn away and walk towards the Hog's Head. She was always careful and cautious, keeping an eye on everyone around her while she was in the small town. She seemed to be the only person there who took any notice when a tall wizard in a dark cloak apparated into the street. He was wearing a different cloak than she'd ever seen him in before and his hood was pulled up to hide his face, but she knew who he was instantly. His identity was as clear and obvious to her as if he had a sign on his back that said his name.

She stopped walking, frozen in surprise. What on earth was Snape doing in Hogsmeade? She didn't think anyone else recognized him the way she did, and part of her wondered how it had been so easy for her to tell who he was. But a different, bigger part of her was wondering what he thought he was doing; he was walking straight towards the Three Broomsticks. Hadn't he assumed that the Ministry would have aurors there, waiting? Or did he think that the inn wasn't a place where the Ministry would bother posting spies?

She watched him enter the place, and then she was suddenly able to move again. Without her consent, her feet began taking her towards the Three Broomsticks. And she didn't try very hard to stop them. She wanted to know what Snape was doing in Hogsmeade—that is, if he hadn't just showed because he wanted a good meal and a hot drink—and she had the urge to follow him and the uneasy feeling that things were about to get dangerous.

She entered not long after he did, and she moved to a table in the corner, the darkest, most shadowed corner. He was seated in another corner, the one directly across the room from her. She was careful to keep her face hidden, and she swallowed as a sudden, overwhelming sense of foreboding filled her. She was so engrossed in watching Snape—and wondering which of the other patrons were Ministry aurors—that she nearly jumped out of her seat when Madam Rosmerta appeared beside her.

The older witch looked kindly down at her, and though Hermione knew that her face was concealed in shadows she still felt extremely exposed and compromised. "What can I get ya?" the innkeeper asked.

Hermione licked her lips and altered her voice slightly as she spoke. "A butterbeer would be nice." She was pleased to find that she didn't sound anywhere near as alarmed and nervous as she felt.

"Of course," the older witch said with a smile, and she ambled away from the table.

Hermione was able to let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She started to inhale and exhale regularly again. But still she eyed the other people in the place warily, trying to find something about them that could identify them as Ministry workers. And all the while, she was watching Snape out of the corner of her eye. It _did_ seem as though he had only come for a good meal and hot drink, after all.

Hermione paid when Madam Rosmerta brought her butterbeer, and then the innkeeper left Hermione alone. She began to relax a bit. The warmth of her drink seemed to seep through her, right into her bones, and she didn't feel so uptight and nervous anymore. She did keep watching Snape, though. He ate a small meal and had a tankard of something, though Hermione wasn't sure whether it was butterbeer or something else. Try as she might, she just couldn't imagine that the cold, cruel potions master would be partial to warm, sweet butterbeer.

She had only just finished her drink when it happened; three wizards at the table to her right rose suddenly from their seats and walked quickly to Snape's table. Hermione watched, and all of the warm, relaxed feelings she'd been having melted away in an instant. The wizards pulled their wands, pointing them at Snape. He said something Hermione couldn't hear and stood slowly. Hermione couldn't breathe. Should she let them take him and just try to keep her head down and not get noticed? Or should she intervene?

The other people in the place were starting to take notice of the four wizards in the corner, three of them with drawn wands, and murmurs and whispers began. Snape nodded to the three Ministry aurors, though his face was still hidden beneath his hood. They began walking towards the door, with one auror leading and two bringing up the rear, behind Snape. All eyes were on the group of wizards who were leaving.

And then he did it. Just as the auror in front of him was pushing past a small group of young witches, Snape reached up suddenly and pulled his hood back, exposing his face. Hermione had expected what she was now seeing, but no one else in the room did. The group of witches looked up at the potions master and all of them shrieked and screamed at once, trying to run or move quickly away. The other patrons all either stood up or jumped in surprised. Some flinched away and remained in their seats, but most made a mad dash for the door.

In all of the sudden chaos, the head auror, who was leading Snape and the other two Ministry wizards, turned quickly and shouted a curse at Snape. But the potions master was quicker. Before Hermione knew what was happening, curses and hexes were flying everywhere and Snape was diving for cover . . . right towards her table. She barely had time to scramble out of the way, and even then she only backed herself farther into the corner, under the table. Snape was beside it. Whoever hadn't left the inn had now either joined in the sudden chaotic mess of spells, or was hiding under a table or behind a chair much like Hermione.

In the blink of an eye Snape was on the other side of the room, fighting his way towards the door. But several witches and wizards barred his way, so he turned back and barely ducked behind a rack full of coats and cloaks in time to dodge the curses that flew after him. Hermione saw that he was cornered, with no way out. And then, once again, her arms and legs were moving without her consent. She drew her wand and forced her way through the crowd and the chaos, somehow avoiding the many hexes and curses that were flying past her.

She made it to the corner Snape was in and stupefied a wizard just before he cursed the potions professor. Then the wizards started aiming for her as well, and she realized that during her mad dash across the room and out from under the table, the hood of her cloak and had fallen back, revealing her face.

She pointed her wand and the closest table and it turned on its side and slid in front of her and Snape just before several hexes were sent their way. Snape turned and looked at her, and she didn't think she'd ever seen him looking so shocked and angry in her life. He shouted a curse, standing long enough to point his wand over the table, and then ducked down behind it again. "Granger," he said her name like it was a swearword. Then he hissed, "_What_ are you doing?"

Hermione copied him, standing and quickly hexing someone before ducking behind the table again. "Well," she spoke as cheerfully as if he was a friend and they were discussing something quite pleasant, "I was convicted of saving your life. I might as well get it over with, then!"

He had stood up to hex or curse someone, but when he heard her he stopped and turned to look at her, the strangest expression on his face. He didn't seem to believe his own ears. But he was still standing, a perfect target. Someone hit him with an especially nasty hex and as he collapsed, unconscious, on the floor beside her, Hermione knew she needed to do something. Something so crazy and impossible that no one would expect it.

So she recalled one of her happier memories of a time spent with Harry and Ron, and shouted, "Expecto Patronum!"

Her silver otter burst from the tip of her wand and swam through the air, right into the faces of Hermione's attackers. They were shocked and frightened by the sudden blinding silver light and it gave Hermione just enough time to hastily drag Snape from behind the table and out the door by his wrists. As soon as they were on the street, she—and Snape with her—disapparated back to the forest just outside of her camp. It was invisible to her, but she quickly said the needed word for entry and closed off the boundaries once she'd dragged Snape through.

Then she collapsed on the ground beside him, clutching at her stomach. She'd been hit by a hex in the chaos of their escape, but it didn't seem too serious. She glanced at Snape to make sure he was still breathing, and then she pulled out her beaded bag and rummaged through the contents until she came up with a small phial of elixir. She swallowed all of the translucent liquid inside of the glass container and immediately felt much better. Placing the phial back in her bag and tucking the bag back in her pocket, she picked up her wand again and pointed it at Snape, muttering a charm to make him float above the ground.

She floated him into the tent and let him down on the bed. After checking to be sure he was in stable condition and not in danger of losing his life, she found a potion that seemed like it would help him and managed to get him to swallow. She was, however, quite sure that he was still unconscious. Hermione sighed; they couldn't stay near Hogsmeade now that they'd both been seen there. So she set to work.

Severus opened his eyes, waking with a start. He sat up quickly and froze in surprise at the sight of the canvas wall beside him. And then there was a strange, familiar female voice beside him, scolding and ordering him to lie back down. He turned to look at her, ignoring the sudden burning pain that spread through the whole left side of his body, and frowned when he saw _her_. Granger. Just his luck.

When he refused to obey her orders, she started shouting. "Back! Lie down, now!"

He glared savagely at her, and she glared right back.

At last, she looked away, rolling her eyes. "Please," she said, though she didn't sound in the least bit pleading. "Just lie back down. You'll be better in a day or so, and then we can go our separate ways. Believe me," she sighed, "I want to get away from you just as much as you want to get away from me."

He cocked an eyebrow at her, but said nothing. Then, after another mutual glare between them, he let out his breath in a huff and fell back against the mattress. He turned his head to look at her in surprise when she sighed loudly and said, "Thank you."

She stepped down into the main part of the tent and turned her back on him, doing something at the table there. She turned sharply when he said, "Damn it, Granger."

"What?" she demanded.

He only glowered at her.

"Well," she said after a moment, "That's an interesting way to thank me after I saved your life."

His glare intensified, but he saw that she was unaffected by his gaze, and he gave up. He rolled his eyes.

"That's probably the closest thing to a thank-you I'll get out of you," she said, looking nonplussed. "But you're welcome."

They fell silent and she went back to whatever she was doing at that table. Severus glared rather ferociously at the ceiling.

A few moments later she turned back to him and held out a bowl of salad. "You may sit up now," she said.

He growled, but sat up and accepted the food, scowling at her. Rather than thanking her, he asked, "Where are we?"

Granger bit her lip, and it was obvious to Severus that she was debating whether or not to tell him. At last she seemed to make up her mind. "The Forest of Dean," was all she said, and then she turned away, walking towards the door.

Severus glared after her. "Where are you going?" he asked as she opened the entrance to the tent.

Without turning, she threw over her shoulder, "The river. I'm guessing that you'd prefer a bit of meat in your diet." And then she was gone.

Severus glared at the ceiling once more.

Only moments later, Granger was back and she had two fish, already gutted and cleaned, with her. She set them in a pan to fry over the fire and went to sit at the table with a book, ignoring him completely. He responded by neglecting to acknowledge her presence. When the fish was ready Granger took it from the pan and made up two plates of it, setting a slice of cheese and a piece of bread on each plate. She walked to the bed, setting Severus' plate and a cup of water on the desk beside him before returning to the main part of the tent without a word.

Severus sat up and ate his food, and when he'd finished it he drew his wand and flicked it at the plate and cup, and the dishes floated back to the table where Granger was sitting. She glanced up at them, but her expression was bored. She finished eating and used magic to clean the dishes, which she then placed back in her beaded bag.

Severus was strong enough to get up and move now, but the left side of him still ached rather unpleasantly. He was able to leave the tent to look around, and though it was unspoken Granger made it clear with her eyes that he was free to go it he wanted. But he was still weak and in pain, so he decided against it. He wasn't very willing to be around Granger at all, but he knew that he'd be better off if he recovered before he left the protection of her camp.

It bothered him, that she was doing anything for him or helping him at all. And it bothered him even more that he actually _needed_ her help. And he was irked by the fact that the camp, this place of safety where he was staying, was _hers_, and he was only there because she was allowing him to be. Growling, he stepped back into the tent and glanced at Granger. She had migrated from the table in the main compartment of the tent. Now she was in one of the smaller compartments, one with a small bed and desk like his. She was standing in the doorway there, and she looked up when he came back into the tent. Then she turned without a word and closed the curtains behind her, cutting off her room from the rest of the tent.

He turned his attention back to the bunk that was temporarily his, and entered his own room. He closed the curtains behind him and sank back onto the bed. It was then that he noticed the small potion and a cup of steaming tea on his desk. He reached out and picked up the potion. It was for relieving pain. His eyes flashed in the direction of Granger's room, and then back to the potion in his hands. So, in spite of his ability to hide his suffering, she knew that he was in pain. He put several drops of potion into his tea and set the glass container back on his desk. Then he drank his tea and lay back on the bed. He fell asleep not long after that.

When he woke in the morning he was, once again, momentarily confused by his surroundings. Then he recalled the events of the day before and he rose, waving his wand at the bed, which made itself. Then he stopped, listening hard. There wasn't a single sound from out in the main part of the tent, so he didn't think Granger was awake. The pain had receded enough to bother only the muscles in his left arm and shoulder, and walking was not hard for him now. He opened the curtains that separated his room from the rest of the tent and was startled to find Granger moving around the fire and by the table.

She was walking on silent feet, and moved so quickly and yet so fluidly that she seemed to be dancing around the room as she moved from place to place, slicing bread and cheese and setting it out. But Severus didn't appreciate the way she appeared to be dancing. Rather, he was simply annoyed that she had risen before him and was awake. She didn't seem to notice that he was watching her, and he was quite pleased and amused when she saw him and started in surprise. But then she went back to making the breakfast and paying him no attention whatsoever.

He stepped up to the table and looked down at the food she was preparing. She was utterly focused on her hands and the bread, cheese, and jam she was handling. So Severus was surprised when she asked, without looking up, "How are you feeling today?"

He smirked even though she still wasn't looking at him. "Better," he said, and his voice was harsher than he intended it to be, but Granger seemed unaffected by his tone. He continued, "That is due to the potion, of course."

The young woman kept her gaze on her work, but nodded. "Of course."

Severus had snatched the potion from his bedside desk before leaving his room, and he now set it on the table, pushing it towards the witch and leaving it there. "I now owe you my life and my health," he said, sounding quite displeased.

But all Granger said was, "You're welcome."

He glared at the top of her head, as she was bent over a small beaded bag that she'd drawn from her robes. "I do _not_ like owing people anything, especially my life," he said.

"Obviously," she replied, pushing his plate of food towards him and at last lifting her head to meet his gaze. Then her eyes dropped to the potion on the table and she reached out and took it, stowing it away in that beaded bag of hers.

He picked up his plate and returned to sit on his bed, closing the curtains once he'd entered his compartment. He didn't see her roll her eyes and shake her head, annoyed with his lack of gratefulness. Even as he ate, he hardly tasted his food; he was thinking over the charm that the young witch must have put on her small bag, as he'd only just seen her reach into it, burying it all of the way up to her elbow. He wondered what a great many things she must keep in that bag.

Hermione was already sick of having Snape around. He was still cold and unkind as ever, and such a greasy, ungrateful git. He seemed more bothered by his owing her than he was pleased or thankful that she'd saved him. Nevertheless, she didn't regret saving him. She pondered why she'd been thrown into the position and the circumstances to ever save the potions master, twice now, and wondered if it would happen again. She certainly hoped not. Hopefully Snape would leave her camp that day or maybe the next, but she was sure he wouldn't linger any longer. He didn't seem to be enjoying her company, either. Thinking of how Ron's nose would wrinkle and the look of disgust that would cloud his face if he knew that Snape had slept in the tent and stayed in Hermione's camp, she left the tent and went to the river to catch some fish for lunch. At the thought of Ron, she was actually able to smile a little.

**Hello! Okay, sorry if this one was a little confusing! I wanted to include the perspectives of both Severus and Hermione. Whenever we're seeing things from Hermione's point of view, Snape will be referred to by his last name, because that is how she thinks of him. Likewise, whenever we're seeing things from Severus' point of view, Hermione will be referred to by her last name, because that is how Severus thinks of her. I hope that makes sense! **

**At any rate, I hope you like this chapter! If you have anything at all to say about it, you know I'd love to hear it! Thanks again. ~Taelr**


	4. Essence of Dittany

Hermione's heart beat rapidly. She dared not breathe, but felt as if the sound of her frantic heart pounding in her chest was loud enough that it would give her away. Her lungs burned and her chest ached, and she longed to give in to her body's desires and gulp air in great gasps, but she didn't dare. She allowed herself to inhale just a few precious, shallow breaths, and then she was utterly silent again. She was trembling from the long, exhausting night she'd only just managed to survive. Her face and neck were streaked with dirt and sweat and her robes were torn and dirty.

She risked leaning forward enough to see around the corner of the building where she'd hidden in the shadows. She could hear the feet of many witches and wizards running about in search of her, and several brooms whistled by overhead as their riders scanned the darkness that blanketed the ground below. The sun would rise soon, Hermione knew. Already the shadows around her were beginning to recede. She pressed closer the wall behind her, trying vainly to melt into the remaining shadows. And then she saw him.

The Minister of Magic apparated right into her line of vision, not twenty yards away. Hermione had been running all night long, unable to disapparate to someplace safe. In the past month, The Ministry had tightened security and was going to great lengths to catch their two most wanted fugitives. Ministry witches and wizards were everywhere, among both magical folk and the muggles. No town or place where people lived was safe. Hermione had been living in the wilderness for quite some time, but hadn't been aware of just how extensive the Ministry's new precautionary actions were. She'd apparated into London to buy tins of food and jars of preserves, perhaps even a loaf or two of fresh bread.

Before she'd taken a single step forward, though, a strange noise rang out, causing her to freeze. The muggles around her had paused, but as soon as the noise stopped they had gone back to their own business without another thought about the sound. Hermione recognized the sound; she'd heard it once before, when she and Harry and Ron had apparated into Hogsmeade while their faces were all on wanted posters. She'd known immediately that the Ministry was aware of her presence in London, but before she could disapparate a line of Ministry aurors had appeared and approached, causing her to move away from them. She didn't realized until later that they had herded her into a trap; they'd cast enchantments over this part of the city and she couldn't leave by apparition.

Then they'd begun their chase, trying not to be seen my muggles, but that was almost unavoidable as they were in the city. It was late afternoon when Hermione entered London and the chase began, and by the time darkness fell she'd run all of the way to the very outskirts of the city. She had run and run, turning and trying often to disapparate, but it never worked. The Ministry had covered a vast amount of land in enchantments. Hermione continued to run, hoping and praying that she might reach the edge of the enchantments before the aurors caught up to her.

And now she was here, all but crushing herself against a wall and willing the shadows around her not to melt away. She knew immediately that Kingsley had known where she was and that if he apparated there as he did, she would see him and know where the boundaries of the enchantments lay. Hermione looked up at the many brooms circling high above her in the every-lightening sky, and glanced from side to side, trying to determine whether she had any chance at all of covering the twenty yards to the boundary line without being caught.

She took a deep breath and counted slowly to three, and then leapt to her feet, feeling the resistance and the ache in her every muscle as she did. She'd already been hit with several minor hexes, but they hadn't done enough damage to keep her down. She gripped her wand tightly in her hand, throwing hexes over her shoulder as she raced towards the point Kingsley had apparated to only moments before. Tears of pain and exhaustion, fear and exertion leaked from her eyes, blurring her vision as she ran for her life. She turned her head, screaming a hex and pointing her wand, but before she'd finished speaking the incantation, she heard one of the aurors behind her yell something. Her vision exploded into a million throbbing red points of light and fire seemed to envelope her right leg as she fell to the ground, hard.

She blinked rapidly, trying desperately to regain her vision. When at last it returned to her, it was blurry and she could barely see. Her ears were ringing as she pushed herself onto her hands and knees, only to collapse back to the ground, unable to put any weight on her right leg and so shaken and weak from the pain in her injured limb that she couldn't move. She turned her head and watched as a band of aurors walked her way, no longer shouting hexes and curses because they could clearly see that she wasn't capable of fleeing or defending herself. And then there were the many witches and wizards circling above her on their brooms, actually shouting out in victory as their allies on the ground advanced on their quarry.

Hermione turned her head away, looking towards her destination. She'd been _so close_. The boundary line was only a matter of feet away from her, but she knew she could never reach it. She couldn't even crawl, let alone sprint as quickly as she would have needed to in order to reach the boundary line before the Ministry aurors caught up to her or hexed her again. She was still watching the place where Kingsley had apparated, wishing that everything wouldn't move in slow-motion around her, as it was. And then, in an instant, everything changed. Time sped back up to its normal pace. She turned to glance at the approaching Ministry aurors and looked just in time to see then stop suddenly, looks of surprise and disbelief on every face. She looked back to the place where Kingsley had apparated, the very place that all of the aurors were staring at in shock.

She felt her face go slack in surprise at the sight that met her eyes when she looked. And then the edges of her vision were going black and with her last seconds of sight she saw _him_ running towards her. And then everything was dark and she felt strong arms encircle her and large hands gripping her tightly, and she was lifted from the ground. Then she was jostled about in those arms, and she had the faintest idea that whoever was holding her was running, and then she felt the familiar crushing, suffocating sensation that came whenever she apparated and she lost consciousness completely.

Severus hadn't intended to be so concerned for the young woman who had saved his life. He had never planned on being gentle and careful with her, but she felt so fragile now, resting limply in his arms like a broken doll. He found himself cradling her with as much gentleness and care as possible as he lifted her from the ground and ran back to the edge of the enchantments and disapparated. He had no idea whether or not she'd set up her tent and made a camp somewhere, but for now he was a bit preoccupied with her immediate health. He laid her carefully down on the ground as soon as his feet were back on firm ground, and then he set to casting protective enchantments around them. As soon as that was done and they were invisible to the outside world, he returned to her side and knelt on the ground.

He didn't touch her now, and for more than one reason. For one thing, he hadn't exactly enjoyed having to hold her close against his chest while saving her. And for another, he knew how completely disgusted with and frightened by him she would be if she woke to find that he had even just cleaned her face of the dirt and sweat there. And he knew how angry and uncomfortable he would be if their places were reversed and he woke to find that she'd dared to touch him while he was unconscious. However, he wondered how serious her injuries were. He knew now, from seeing her during the war and then during the fight in the Three Broomsticks, that she was a lot tougher and stronger than she looked. He would never have expected such a small, petite young woman to be so stable and resilient.

He had seen when she was lying on the ground before he saved her that she was wearing muggle clothing under her robes. And yet still he refrained from cutting her robes or moving them so that he could see her right leg, which was bleeding badly enough that the bright red liquid had soaked through her muggle clothes and her robes alike. He cast a spell that would stem the flow of blood, made sure that she was still breathing without trouble and seemed to be in stable condition, and then he turned away from her.

He gathered twigs and bits of wood from inside the protective enchantments to make a fire. Even then, he had no food or water to heat and no cups or bowls to hold it in, as his belongings were meager and were stored safely away in a bag that he'd placed in a hollow tree in the forest outside of Hogsmeade before coming to save Hermione. He had actually returned to the place in the Forest of Dean, where she'd brought him after she saved his life, more than once. And he had in fact seen her apparate into the forest more than once, seeing her only for a short while before she set up her own protective enchantments and was invisible. He would never admit to this, though, as he knew it would both frighten and infuriate her. He himself didn't actually know why he was drawn back to the forest where she'd taken him after saving him. Perhaps because he didn't listen to the radio and therefore wouldn't know if Granger was captured, and he was curious about how his chances of surviving and remaining a free man were.

He came back to the present when he heard Granger's breathing change, and he tensed but didn't turn around to look at her. There were a few seconds of complete silence because she held her breath, and then she inhaled sharply and sat up suddenly. He turned around to look when she gasped and fell onto her back on the dirt once more with a light _thud_.

He moved slowly to her side, wanting her to be aware of his presence and recognize him so that she wouldn't attack him. She turned her head quickly in his direction when he took the first step her way, and she visibly relaxed when she saw that it was only him. He wasn't sure which emotion he felt more strongly in response to her reaction to seeing him; anger that she wasn't afraid of him or a sense of pleasure that someone actually trusted him and wasn't afraid of him. Of course, he didn't actually admit the second one to himself, and he would never admit it to Granger.

She was frowning now, and he could tell that she was trying to remember everything that had happened. As soon as she stopped frowning in concentration she was grimacing, her face making her pain obvious to him. She took a deep breath and pushed herself up onto her elbows, moving so that she was sitting up and then forcing herself to remain so with obvious effort. She leaned on her arms, looking unsteady but not falling back to the ground. She swallowed and turned to look at him. "You saved me." It was more of a statement than a question, but she sounded confused.

He simply looked back at her and didn't answer for a moment. Then he rolled his eyes and said sarcastically, "Oh, please don't take it personally or wonder if perhaps I consider you a friend. I had my reasons, and friendship or any kind of concern for you were not any of them."

She actually smirked at him. "Don't worry about me taking your actions to heart," she assured him, just as sarcastically. After a moment, she asked, "What were your reasons, then?"

He stared at her evenly for a few seconds and then said, "I loathe owing people anything, especially my life."

She understood, and nodded. "Well," she said, "we're even now."

He inclined his head and turned back to the fire, expecting the conversation to end there. He stopped in surprise when she said, "Thank you."

He turned to face her again and cocked an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes and said cheerfully, "Well, just because you never thanked me for saving _your_ life doesn't mean I have to return the favor, does it?"

He was amused by her witty response, but said nothing and didn't let her know about his amusement. He saw that she was trembling with the effort of sitting up, and he found his eyes drawn to the place in her robes where the blood had soaked through. She was already looking down in the same place he was, and she reached down and tugged at the edges of her robes, pulling them up and exposing her jeans. She rolled up her robes and Severus felt his eyes widen slightly when he saw her injury. Her right leg had been hit with an especially nasty curse, and there were several deep gashes across the side of her thigh. Blood still trickled from the cuts in her flesh, but Severus noted that she didn't seem at all bothered by the sight of her own blood or her mangled skin and muscle, though he could tell that she was still in pain.

She noticed that he was staring at her leg, but seemed to understand at once that he was looking at her injury and not the exposed skin that showed through her torn jeans. She reached into her robes and took out that beaded bag he'd seen before and he watched with interest as she buried her arm elbow-deep in the bag, eventually pulling out a small container of something or other. She then glanced around them at the now-light forest and pulled a carefully folded _something_ out of her bag. She tossed it on the ground and pointed her wand at it and it unfolded itself, and the small tent they'd stayed in before sprang into existence before Severus' eyes. It looked small on the outside, but was larger within because of the charm put on it, much like Hermione's bag.

Once more, Severus wondered what a vast collection of things Granger had in that bag, but it never even crossed his mind to steal it. He wasn't a thief, just someone who was curious. He pointed his wand at the fire he'd made earlier, extinguishing it because he knew that there would be wood in the fireplace within the tent. He glanced between the tent and Hermione, who was now eyeing him with an annoyed look mixing in with her pained expression.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, silently asking, and she snapped, "I can move myself, thank you very much."

He shrugged, smirking at the look on her face when he turned towards the tent, entering it and going to the compartment that had been his room for a few nights a month before. He set his wand on the bedside table and went back into the main part of the tent, sitting down at the table there and waiting for Granger's inevitable entrance. But she didn't show. Severus was surprised; she was so tough and strong, he'd been sure she would find the strength to at least crawl in through the door or use some kind of spell to move herself. He gave her five more minutes and then he rose from his seat and went to the entrance of the tent, looking out of it.

Granger was lying on the ground again. She'd torn her jeans open more than before and applied the contents of her container to her wounds before wrapping her leg in a white bandage. Now she had curled up on her left side, so not to bother her right. She had her knees pulled up towards her chest, but he guessed that they weren't as close as she usually pulled them up, do to her injuries. She didn't move or make a sound besides her breathing, or at least not until he left the tent and approached, standing over her.

Hermione looked up when Snape came closer. He was there, towering over her and looking down at her as if he felt sorry for her and was simultaneously amused by her helpless state. She turned away from him, glaring at a tree and muttering, "Go away."

"I thought you said you could get to the tent by yourself, Granger," he sneered. He was obviously enjoying himself, taunting her like this.

She turned to glare at him, but then she looked away. "I'm . . . working on it," she growled the first word and then trailed off into a quiet, defeated whisper with the rest.

"What was that?" he asked innocently, wanting her to ask for help because he knew she was loath to ask him for anything.

"I said," she said, growling once more, "I said to go away," and then her voice lost its firmness as she added, ". . . please?"

He raised his eyebrows and waited for her to ask for his help. It _was_ inevitably going to happen. He lifted his eyes, letting his gaze sweep the forest around them. "It gets rather hot under direct sun here," he mused, as if talking to himself.

She was still turned away from him, and he didn't see her roll her eyes.

At last he was tired of waiting for her. She tensed and pulled her knees closer against her chest in spite of the pain when his arms were suddenly around her and he was picking her up again. She kept her face turned away from him and didn't look at him as he carried her into the tent and set her down carefully on her bed in her own compartment in the tent. He turned and left, closing the curtains behind him and leaving her closed off from the rest of the tent.

She frowned up at the ceiling. She didn't like the feel of Snape's arms around her; she didn't like touching him at all, really. And yet, she admitted to herself that she'd never expected him to be so . . . gentle. He was gentle, careful, even tender and concerned when she was in his arms. Alarming as the thought was, she wondered why he was so careful with her. Granted, she was injured and rather fragile at the moment, but _still_. She had no way of knowing that at that very moment, he was wondering the same things.

He had never _intended_ to be so gentle or careful with her, never meant to treat her with so much care, as if she would break at any moment. He'd just done it, but whether on instinct or for some other reason, he himself did not know. Even as she frowned at the ceiling of her tent compartment, he frowned as he pointed his wand at the fireplace, muttering, "Incendio," and watching the flames as they began to grow and consume the wood beneath them.

Granger was no longer his student, both because he was no longer a professor at Hogwarts and because she was no longer in school. And even when he was her teacher, he had never felt any particular urge to protect her, and had only done so because it was what Dumbledore asked and because her best friend was the son of Lily. So why then did he suddenly feel so protective of her, as if it was his job to keep her safe and prove to the Ministry that she didn't deserve to spend her life in Azkaban? Why did he suddenly feel like it didn't really matter if he went to Azkaban, as long as she went free? He had no feelings for her, no affections, that much he knew. Even after searching his heart, he was sure that there were no emotions for her there. So why did he suddenly feel as if it was his job to keep her safe, no matter what he must give up in order to do so?

He started in surprise when her voice came from her room. "Snape," she growled, though her tone lacked the menace it had contained earlier.

He went to her, opening the curtains and looking at her expectantly. He didn't say a word, as his expression asked enough.

She pulled her bag from her robes again and actually held it out to him. "There's water and tea bags, and some bread and a bit of cheese left," was all she said.

Severus studied her face for a moment. She trusted him with this, her beaded bag? But was it not her most precious possession, because it contained everything else that she owned? He frowned, but took the bag from her and left her room again, returning to the table in the main part of the tent. He hadn't closed the curtains this time, and he glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. She was watching him, so he didn't dig around in her bag to see what he might find. Instead, he pointed his wand and summoned the food and water that she had mentioned, as well as two plates, two cups, and a kettle. He set the kettle to boil over the fire and sliced the meager cheese and bread that there was, putting a bit on each of the two plates, though he put less on his own plate and more on hers. He didn't know why he was giving her a larger portion and less to himself, but he did it anyway.

When the water had boiled he made tea and poured her a cup, taking her small meal to her and setting it on her bedside table. She eyed him suspiciously when he did this, and unwillingly accepted his assistance when he helped her sit up, propping her against her pillows. Then he set her plate of food on her lap and made sure that she could reach her tea before he returned to the table and ate his own meal. She didn't say anything about his neglecting to return her beaded bag to her, and when she was finished with her small meal he used magic to clean their dishes and returned them to the bag. When this was finished he picked the bag up and turned back to face her, but she had squirmed back down so that she was lying on her side, and he realized that she'd fallen asleep. He wondered if she'd been on the run all night long and realized how exhausted she must be.

Then he glanced back down at the bag in his hands. Would it really hurt to see what it contained? He wasn't going to steal anything, and was merely curious . . .

He walked to Granger's room, quietly closing the curtains to her compartment and then returning to the table. He then began emptying the beaded bag, and eventually the table was so crowded that he had to start setting things on the floor. He found another bag within the beaded bag, one that was larger and obviously contained Granger's clothing, perhaps her entire wardrobe, so he left that alone. Then he carefully put everything back where it had been before and closed the bag, setting it on the table.

He left the tent to go find them some more food. For the first time, it really occurred to him, where they were. He'd brought them, on instinct, to the Forest of Dean, when he saved Granger. How strange, he thought, that she had brought him here, to this very place near the river, when she had saved him. And now, in his endeavor to pay his debt to her, he had brought her to the same place. A frown creased his brow as he went to the river to gather watercress and herbs and to catch a couple of fish for their lunch.

Granger slept all day, and Severus ate his lunch without making her a plate. It was late evening when she finally sighed and began to stir in her sleep. He couldn't see her, but heard her through the curtain. He made up two plates of food and hot tea, and then he waited for her to make it known that she was conscious. Rather, she remained silent, and he wondered if she thought he was asleep, as the sun had begun to set. Finally, she coughed. Tired of waiting for her to say something, he growled, "Hungry?" loud enough that she would hear.

She was silent for a moment again, and then he caught her hoarse, whispered, "Yes."

He went to her compartment again, opening the curtains and propping her against her pillows again. Then he set her food on her lap and her tea on the bedside table. When they had finished eating, he used a simple incantation to clean the dishes once more and stored them back in Granger's beaded bag. Then he reentered her small room in the tent and set the bag on the bedside table. She tucked it away in her robes again and Severus watched her do so.

"You have quite the extensive potion collection," he mused, breaking the silence that had fallen. He watched her face, curious to see her reaction. But she gave none.

"Hmm," was her only response. She didn't even look slightly startled that he had looked through her bag.

He found his eyes drawn to the red stain on her robes, which she hadn't yet bothered to clean or mend with magic yet. She did look startled and quite uncomfortable when he asked suddenly, "May I see it?"

He watched as her eyes darted down to her leg and then back to his face. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he only smirked in return. "Why?" she asked, and he could see the confusion and honest curiosity behind her eyes.

He only continued to smirk at her, which obviously bothered her.

"Well?" she demanded.

He rolled his eyes. "Did it never occur to you that _perhaps_, having lived twice as long as you, I just _might_ know something that you do not know about magically healing wounds and injuries such as the one you have sustained?" he admonished.

She frowned, squirming uncomfortably beneath his savage, unyielding glare. "Well . . ." she murmured, obviously arguing with herself over the matter.

Before she could say anything more, he was rolling his eyes and he asked again, though this time quite sharply, "May I?"

She nodded slowly, and he waited as she drew her robes up and away from her leg, revealing the bandage and her torn jeans. She reached down and untied the bandage, which was a light red color because of the bit of blood that had soaked into it. When the bandage was untied and her wounds were exposed, she drew back, setting her hands in her lap and watching him.

Hermione had to remind herself not to involuntarily cower or flinch away when Snape leaned over her. Surprisingly, his hands felt cool and soothing on her torn, enflamed flesh. But she was still very unwilling and not at all comfortable with him touching her or being this close to her. She could see by his expression that this was just as uncomfortable and unpleasant for him as it was for her. She watched him as he drew his wand and pointed it at her wounds. When he spoke, he did so quietly, muttering, "Vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur."

Her eyes flew to her leg when the pain there began to turn to a strange, unpleasant burning sensation. She bit her lip and waited for the burning to pass, and Snape leaned back, remaining silent and putting his wand away in his robes.

And the burning did pass as, before her eyes, her muscles and skin began to knit itself together again, until her leg was whole once more and only several small red scars remained. She started in surprise when Snape suddenly held out his hand and said, "The bag."

She reached into her robes, withdrawing the bag and placing it in his waiting hand, though he wasn't watching her. He opened the drawstring on the bag and Hermione watched as he took out his wand again. He pointed it towards the mouth of the bag and said, "Accio dittany," under his breath. A small bottle filled with brown liquid floated out of the bag and into his waiting hand.

Hermione knew what he was going to use the essence of dittany for, as she had used the very same thing to heal Ron's splinch wound and then Harry's snake bite. But it hadn't occurred to her to use it to prevent scarring, and she was surprised when Snape severed the clean edge of her bandage from the rest and used it to dab the dittany on the surface of her skin, where the new scars were. When he was finished, he returned the bottle of dittany to Hermione's bag and threw both pieces of the bandage into the fire. She was surprised further when he returned to her side and mended her ripped jeans and then the tears and frayed edges of her robes. Then he turned without a word and left her there, leaving her beaded bag on the bedside table and closing the curtains to her compartment behind him.

The pain in her leg was gone, but Hermione was still weak. Even though she had slept all day, she knew that she would easily fall asleep and remain deeply so until morning. It was strange, knowing that if it wasn't for Snape, she would most likely be locked away in Azkaban at that very moment. And the Ministry might have just left her wounds. They would have searched her and taken her bag and her wand from her, and she would be helpless and would probably die quickly. But instead of that fate, she was lying comfortably in her small bunk in her tent, safe and sound somewhere in the Forest of Dean and far away from the Ministry aurors who had hurt her and were hunting her.

Stranger even than that knowledge was the great quantity of gratefulness she felt to Snape for saving her life. Even if he had only been repaying his debt, he was the reason she would live another day. All was silent in the tent and she could tell that the fire in the main part of the tent was slowly dying, which meant that Snape had retired to his own compartment or had left the tent and the camp altogether. But Hermione knew somehow that he hadn't let yet, and that he would feel obligated to stay at least until the following morning, just to be sure that she was capable of caring for herself again. Then he would leave. Fearing that she wouldn't get a chance to thank him in the morning, she looked at the darkness around her and whispered, "Thank you."

Silence reigned once more and Snape didn't respond, but Hermione knew that he had heard her.

**I'm sorry I haven't updated for a while. I was very busy this week with school and other things, so I just didn't have time. But at last, here's chapter four! I hope you liked it; I had quite a bit of fun writing it. If you have any corrections or advice, you know I always love to hear what you have to say. So leave me a review? Thank you all for reading! ~Taelr**


	5. Eggs and Invisibility Cloaks

Hermione woke up and blinked in confusion at the canvas ceiling above her, trying to recall what had happened the day before. Then everything came back to her in an overwhelming wave, and she remembered it all. She hastily shoved the quilt and her robes out of the way to look at her wounded leg, but then remembered that her jeans had been mended and were blocking her injury from view. She hesitantly touched the place on her thigh where she'd been hurt, but experienced no pain, even when she pressed her finger hard against the place. Pleased, she threw back the quilt and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She stood up slowly, wondering whether her leg would hold her and finding that it would. It felt as normal as her other leg did, even when bearing her weight.

Smiling to herself, she stepped up to the curtains and opened them. The main part of the tent was empty, and she found her head turning automatically towards the compartment of the tent that was Snape's. She realized that she was actually hoping he hadn't left yet. Wondering why she felt this way, she let out a sigh of relief when she saw that the curtains there were pulled closed. She knew that Snape would have left them open if he'd departed already. She wasn't sure why she felt so relieved that he hadn't yet left her, but she supposed it was just her natural desire to have a companion and not be left to herself.

She took out her beaded bag and drew a large canteen of water and tea bags from it. When she found that there was no food left, she set the bag on table and the kettle to boil over the fire, and left the tent with the now-empty canteen and her wand. She found that Snape had already expanded the enchantments around the camp to stretch to the river's edge, so that she would remain invisible the entire time she was outside of the tent. She walked to the bank of the river, gathering watercress and herbs. She didn't want fish for breakfast, so the only thing she took from the river was enough water to fill the canteen. When she had gotten everything she wanted, she returned to the tent. She entered and set the food on the table, and her eyes flicked to the entrance to Snape's compartment, where the curtains were now drawn back.

For one terrible moment, she thought he'd slipped away while she was at the river. But then she heard something behind her and turned to see the tall wizard standing near the fire with his back to her. She didn't have to ask to know that he was going to leave before she'd even made breakfast. Rather than addressing how rude it was of him to ignore that she was willing to make him a last meal, she asked, "Where will you go?"

Severus had expected a flurry of questions to leave her, starting with how rude he was for skipping breakfast. He definitely hadn't expected this question, and it surprised him. He turned to face her, his eyebrows raised. "I do not know yet," he drawled rather dully, watching her expression.

The young woman's face didn't give away any hint of what her emotions were or what she was thinking, and this annoyed Severus. At last, she asked, "Do you have a tent?"

He smirked at her. "Concerned about my health and safety, are you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Just curious," she countered, "never concerned."

He was amused by how irked she seemed over his fending off and ignoring her question, and he let his amusement show in his eyes. She only seemed to find this more irksome. The question he hadn't answered was still burning behind her eyes, so he let out his breath in a huff, making obvious his annoyance with her, and finally answered, "I have no tent, if you must know."

She didn't respond, though he was sure that she had heard him. Finally, she said, "They think we're working together. I mean, I'm sure they did after the Three Broomsticks, but after yesterday . . ." she trailed off.

He narrowed his eyes at her but said nothing. What was it that she wanted from him?

"You'd be better off with some kind of shelter or place to stay," she went on.

"I do believe I'll manage," he said.

She bit her lip, swallowing. He waited for whatever it was she was going to say next. She was studying his expression, that much he knew, but he had no clue what she might be looking for. At last she said, "You really don't mind at all, being completely alone." It wasn't a question.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, asking why she would say something of that sort. And then he saw it; the unmistakable look in her eyes that said what her lips never would have. She was used to social interaction, if only with one other person, and she was utterly terrified of the life of solitude now facing her. The life facing her _if he left_. He narrowed his eyes again, but that strange urge to protect her was rising in him once more, and he was realizing that she would be much better off if he stuck around and kept her out of trouble. Besides, it would be much easier to convince the Ministry of her innocence than to break her out of Azkaban if she should get herself caught. _Granger. _What was it with this girl, that she had to cause him such trouble?

He didn't tell her that he would stay. Rather, he kept his gaze on her face and said, "That water has been boiling for quite some time now. I prefer to _drink_ my tea, not burn holes in my throat with it."

Her eyes widened fractionally when he said this, and he knew that she understood his meaning; he was staying for breakfast, perhaps even for another day. He found it mildly interesting, perhaps just a bit fascinating, the look that crept into her eyes next. She looked both pleased that he had decided to stay a bit longer and bothered because she would rather be stuck with anyone but him. And yet he knew that she trusted him, especially after he'd saved her life and healed her injuries.

At the thought of her injuries, he glanced down at her robes, now clean and showing no sign of ever having been torn and blood-stained. She noticed that his eyes had drifted away from her face, and followed his gaze. "It's fine," she said, though he hadn't asked.

He inclined his head ever-so-slightly and then turned away as she hurried towards the fire to tend to the kettle of boiling water. He stared at the wall for a moment, his thoughts far away. He was trying to guess what measures the Ministry would go to now that they had come so close to capturing their two fugitives. Their failure to catch the two was probably stinging their pride, especially now, when they'd failed _twice_.

Severus wondered exactly what Kingsley Shacklebolt would tell his aurors. The Minister would have to yell and scold and make known his fury at the fugitives' escaping yet again, but he would also be hard pressed to keep the Ministry workers from doing anything too drastic. Severus understood what Kingsley must be going through, with his allegiance supposedly with the Ministry but truly lying with the fugitives. Severus had, after all, once been truly loyal to Potter and his cause, but he had been the Headmaster at Hogwarts and was forced to keep up the appearance of a cruel, evil wizard. Of course, he thought with a smirk, he'd always been cruel and unkind, but never truly _evil_.

He was brought back to the present when Granger cleared her throat behind him. He turned to face her, realizing that while he was lost in thought, she had made their breakfast. Two steaming cups of tea and two plates of watercress, seasoned with herbs, were waiting on the table. Severus sat down, ignoring the awkward silence that fell when Granger sat as well. "I hope you're fond of watercress and fish, as that's all we really have to eat now," she said at last, in an attempt to make things less awkward.

Severus derived great pleasure from the knowledge that she was the only one feeling awkward. He seemed to have lost the ability to feel awkward many years before, and now he was completely comfortable in the silence that pervaded the tent. Even the birds outside were silent, and there was no wind to rustle the leaves on the trees.

Hermione bit her lip and returned her attention to her food when Snape didn't answer. She tried to remember happier days, back with Harry and Ron, while she ate. But the thought of her friends only made her heart ache. Harry and Ginny were finally together, and Hermione was ecstatic for the two, but now she was separated from Harry, who was one of her very best friends. And Ron, her boyfriend and other best friend, was no longer hers. She'd had no other choice than to end things with him, but she still missed him terribly and even though she hoped that he would give up his feelings for her, she knew that her feelings for him would take a very long time to go away, if they ever did.

She was lost so deeply in thought that she started in surprise when quite out of nowhere, Snape said, "I would prefer eggs for my breakfast tomorrow."

Hermione looked up at him. "What?"

He rolled his eyes. She waited for him to say something, anything really, but he didn't.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Sorry, did you say something about breakfast tomorrow?" she asked, wondering if perhaps it had all been in her head and he had never said anything at all.

"Indeed," was all he said, and then he rose from his seat and started walking towards the door.

Hermione saw that his plate was empty, as was his teacup, and she turned around in her chair to see him leaving the tent. She wanted to call out, to stop him and ask where he was going, but she thought that it might be foolish of her to do so, so she refrained. Instead, she turned back to her food. He _had _said something about breakfast tomorrow, hadn't he? So then he must be planning on returning to the tent. She had no idea where he was going or how long he would be gone, but she refocused on her food and pushed thoughts of Snape away.

When she was finished with her meal she used magic to clean their dishes and stored them back in her beaded bag. She didn't have much else to do, so she went outside and sat down in the shade of a nearby tree and began using a stick to draw random shapes in the dirt. She spent quite a while sitting there, and when noon came around and the sun was directly above her in the sky, she went back into the tent and made herself a watercress salad. She didn't particularly want fried fish for lunch, so she didn't go to the river. A few hours later she was sitting on the edge of her bunk, reading _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ when she heard the oddest noise. It sounded like the clucking of several chickens.

She stood up in surprise, letting the book fall from her lap even as her mouth fell open when Snape entered the tent. He set three small wooden cages down in an empty corner and went straight to his compartment of the tent, tossing a dark sack onto his bunk. He then turned around, his expression as normal as if he brought chickens with him every time he returned from a trip away from the camp.

"Chickens," Hermione said, gaping at the birds within the cages.

She didn't turn to look at Snape, but he said quite dryly, "Obviously."

Severus watched her face with amusement. She seemed completely shocked and confused by the presence of the birds. He cocked an eyebrow when she turned on him suddenly, looking quite upset. "Did you steal them?" she demanded.

"No," he answered, putting on the proper expression to make known his boredom with their conversation.

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. So, she thought he was lying to her? Well, he wasn't, but if he had been, it wouldn't be the first time since they'd met. She had now turned back to stare at the chickens again. "Where did you get them, then?" she asked. She sounded quite angry with him, though he wasn't sure why. She seemed convinced that he'd stolen them, so perhaps that was the reason she was so upset.

Sighing loudly, he said, "Transfiguration, Granger."

Her mouth had been hanging open as she looked at the birds, but now her teeth closed with a _click_ and her face cleared. "Oh," was all she said, now looking a bit embarrassed.

Severus smirked at her. Honestly, had she forgotten that he was a wizard and could use magic? Minerva had never stopped talking about how _Granger_ was the best student in Hogwarts to ever enter her class, the best at transfiguration. And why was she now looking embarrassed? Rolling his eyes, Severus looked away from her and walked to the table, where he sat down. "I said I wanted eggs, did I not?" he asked.

"Y-you _did_," she stuttered, causing him to turn and look at her.

He let out his breath in a huff. "Hmm, developing a stutter, are you? You really ought not to; it will be just one more on the long list of things about you that are mediocre and pathetic."

She let out a kind of strange, bark of a laugh and said, "Excuse me?"

He raised his eyebrows, though he kept a generally uninterested expression on his face. "Do you want me to elaborate?" he asked, and he could see the anger and hurt in her eyes when he spoke, even though he continued to sound bored. She said nothing, so he went on, "Well, your teeth used to be quite large, but I do believe you used conniving means to reduce their size, and I won't even say anything about your _hair_ . . ."

He could see how this infuriated her, and he waited for her to come up with some witty response that would bore him further, but what she said was hardly boring, and it actually stung.

"Well," she retorted hotly, "I don't think I'll put much stock in your opinion. I mean, who are _you_ to judge _me_? You haven't got the right! Look at _you!_"

They stood there, glaring at each other, for several minutes. Severus was feeling both angry and smug at the same time. He felt smug because he knew that he would inevitably beat her at their glaring contest. And at the same time, he felt angry because part of him knew, deep down inside, that she had a point. Much as he hated to admit it—even just to himself—her words, biting and cruel as they might be, were true.

Eventually she gave up, dropping her gaze to the floor and turning her head. But Severus couldn't even enjoy his moment of victory because of new, nagging thoughts that Granger's words had brought on.

Silence reigned for quite a while and they continued to stand, neither moving from his or her place. Severus failed to notice her nervous glance his way, as his gaze had wandered to the chickens in the corner, now quiet. He didn't see the way that she bit her lip or the sincerely apologetic look in her eyes when she at last squared her shoulders and looked directly at him. But his eyes returned to her face at once when she said quietly, "I'm sorry."

He frowned at her, searching her face for some kind of clue that might give away her intentions. _He_ was the one who had said the cruel things, while she hadn't really. She had only said that he ought to examine himself before he judged others. So why was she apologizing and looking so remorseful? He narrowed his eyes further, searching her face again. But there was nothing in her eyes or her expression that radiated anything but honest remorse and desire for his forgiveness. Even her voice had been thick with regret.

And why did she even bother apologizing? Aside from the fact that she hadn't truly done anything to wrong him, she surely knew that he wouldn't respond to her apology. She had thanked him for saving her life, and seemed to have forgiven him for never thanking _her_ when she saved _his_. He tried to comprehend how she was capable of being vicious and brutally cruel and honest, and yet also kind and forgiving and thankful, but simply couldn't grasp how she was both at once. It was like two separate people and their own personalities were wrapped up inside of Granger, and she could choose which one of them showed through. Before he could ponder further, though, she spoke.

"I take it that since you haven't stormed out yet, you're not planning on leaving?" she asked.

Severus' eyes had wandered once more, but now they snapped back to her face. Was that actual _hopefulness_ in her voice? Surely he wasn't imagining it? Once again, he searched her face in a vain attempt to discover her motives, but once again, he found nothing. There was nothing in her eyes but that same hopefulness.

But why did she want him to stay? Of course, there was the obvious reason; she was a human being, and would therefore naturally desire the company of another. But was there more? And why did she want_ him_? Couldn't Potter or Weasley travel and hide with her just as easily? Surely she preferred their presence and companionship over his, so why was she asking him?

She seemed to read all of this in his eyes. She didn't give any kind of elaborate answer, but instead she simply said, "I ended it with Ron because it's better for him this way. And Harry's lying to the Ministry to keep them off my tail."

Severus was surprised that she had guessed what he was thinking; he was sure that his face had remained the emotionless mask that he had long since mastered putting on, and no one had ever before guessed what he was thinking. She had guessed correctly. This was disturbing to him. Was he losing his touch? Or was she somehow more perceptive than all of the other witches and wizards he'd ever been around? But even Voldemort himself had never read into Severus' thoughts just by looking at him. So how had Granger done it? His eyes flicked back to her face, but if he had hoped to find his answer there, he was disappointed.

Hermione watched his face carefully. A moment before he had seemed taken by surprise when she answered his unspoken question, but now he seemed troubled over something. Very troubled. She studied his expression carefully, trying to understand or at least take a guess at what might have happened or come to mind that he now found so bothersome. She continued to watch him, even when his eyes flicked to her face. His face was an unreadable mask, as ever, and his eyes were dark and told nothing, but somehow, Hermione was sure that he became more distressed when he saw her watching him. Or had he seen the look on her face? Hermione realized that she hadn't really been paying attention to her expression or keeping her emotions out of her eyes, and she realized that she might actually look just a bit concerned or worried. Of course he was more unsettled now, if he'd seen her expression. Hermione knew how bothered and disturbed she would be if she ever caught him looking at her like that.

She turned suddenly towards the fireplace and pointed her wand to it, rekindling the flames that had died out sometime in the past hour. She filled the kettle with water and set it over the fire to boil, and then she left the tent. When she returned moments later with two fish and more watercress, Snape had retreated to his room. Hermione waved her wand idly at the dishes and eating utensils that she took from her beaded bag, and a knife began cleaning and cutting the fish while the watercress tore itself into bite sized pieces. While the food was busy preparing itself, she went to the chickens and set a bowl of water in each of the cages, giving each a small heap of watercress to eat.

Then she returned to the fire, taking the kettle off of the flames and pouring two cups of tea. The watercress salad split and arranged itself in two neat portions on two plates, and Hermione put the fish over the fire to fry. Snape didn't come out of his room until Hermione set the hot fish on their plates and she called for him. Though she felt foolish, she said, "Dinner," as quietly as she could while still speaking loudly enough that she knew he would hear.

They ate in silence and without looking at each other, and as soon as they had finished Snape stepped out of the tent. Hermione cleaned the dishes and put them back in her bag before she walked to her room and glanced as casually and nonchalantly as she could into Snape's room, just to be sure that his sack of possessions—or whatever was in there—was still on the bed. It was, and she relaxed; he hadn't left for good.

When Severus came back inside of the tent, he glanced around, wondering if Granger was still about. She wasn't, and as the curtains to her compartment were closed, he rightly assumed that she had retired for the night. He looked at the chickens as he passed, noting how calm and comfortable they seemed now that they had food and water. Or perhaps it was because _she_ had been near them and had tended to them. He had seen in her years as a student that animals tended to fancy her, even the ones that had a habit of randomly attacking their masters. Now he wondered whether it was because of the food or because of her that the birds were silent and sleeping peacefully in their cages rather than squawking.

The next week passed with some regularity in every new day. Severus always woke first, but he stayed in his room or left the tent until Hermione rose and made Breakfast. They never spoke during their meals, and were actually quiet most of the day. They would occasionally have a conversation about potions or transfiguration or some other form of magic, but for the most part they were silent. And then there were the sporadic and very explosive arguments that they got into. They could actually go more than two days without arguing, though only if neither of them spoke. But Severus tended to add an unkind remark whenever he'd just finished speaking to her, and she often lost her temper and managed to come up with a witty, biting response.

And so the first week passed without the tension and the regular arguments dying out. One morning at breakfast, Hermione was quietly minding her own business as she ate. Snape started drawling about moving to a new location, and she decided not to question him. Hermione explained the path that she, Harry, and Ron had taken on the course of their horcrux hunt. Snape agreed that it was wise to retrace that path, as the Ministry would have no idea of where to look.

So they did move. Snape spent great amounts of time outside, scratching things in the dirt. Hermione had snuck out of the tent and peeked at what he was doing, and he appeared to have scratched out several maps of places where he thought the Ministry had laid traps and would have aurors waiting. Either he hadn't heard her when she peered around him and over his shoulder at the maps on the ground, or he'd simply ignored her presence.

They were sitting at the table several days later, eating lunch, when a twig snapped rather loudly outside of the tent. They exchanged a glance and then both rose from their seats and made their way towards the door without a sound. They had their wands ready, but no one should have been able to tell that there was anyone—or even a tent—there, if that someone was on the outside of the protective enchantments. Snape exited the tent first, and Hermione followed closely. As much as she disliked Snape, she felt safer near him than she did on her own. The two of them stood just outside the tent's entrance and looked around carefully.

There was no sound at all from the forest around them, and there were thick clouds in the sky, so no birds or bugs were about or making any noise. It was deathly quiet, and Hermione felt a chill run down her spine. _Something_ had snapped that twig, so what had it been?

She covered her mouth with her hands to keep a shout of surprise from leaving her when someone or something that she couldn't see bumped into a tree just outside of the enchantment boundaries and whispered, "Ow. Hermione?"

"Harry," she breathed, though she knew he couldn't hear her.

Snape, who had been tense and ready beside her, relaxed.

"Listen," Harry went on, still whispering, "I can't tell if you're here or not. But if you are, could you, I don't know . . . maybe let me know? There aren't any Ministry aurors around; it's just me."

She couldn't see him, but even when he stopped talking, she was sure he stayed still and waited. She glanced at Snape out of the corner of her eye as she hurried by, walking past the boundary line. She felt no different when she did, but she knew that now Harry could see her. She counted four seconds before Harry appeared, hastily folding his invisibility cloak over his arm and making his way to her. As soon as he reached her, he threw his arms around her, and she hugged him back. When at last they broke apart, laughing, he glanced over her shoulder. When Hermione turned around, all she could see was normal forest. And because of the enchantments, she felt compelled to turn around and walk away from the place where she knew the tent and Snape were concealed.

She lifted her wand, speaking the password that would let her through the enchantments and closing them again behind her once she and Harry were through. Snape was nowhere to be seen, so Hermione assumed that he'd gone back inside. Harry looked at the tent and turned to grin at her boyishly, probably remembering the time that they'd gone to the Quidditch World Cup with Ron's family. They walked together to the entrance, and he held the flap aside for her to enter first. She stepped out of the way to let him enter behind her, and she noticed the way that his eyes widened in surprise when he saw the chickens in the corner.

Hermione glanced around, but Snape wasn't in the main part of the tent. The curtains to his room were closed, so she assumed that he must be there. Harry grinned at her again and said, "You look excellent. We all"—Hermione knew he meant the Order of the Phoenix—"heard on the radio about what happened in London, or some of what happened, anyways. We were sure that they'd twisted the story. Kingsley's been too busy to meet with us so we never got the full story from him, but we knew you and Snape had been seen working together"

Hermione shook her head, and he looked confused. "We weren't working together," she said. "I went to get some more food and I accidentally set off an alarm, and spent the rest of the afternoon and the entire night running for my life because they'd put enchantments on half the city so I couldn't disapparate. Kingsley knew where I was and apparated right at the boundary line and in my line of vision so I would know how far I had left to run, but I was hiding by then. I made a run for it and was almost there when I got hit with a curse that sliced my leg up," she patted her right thigh, "and I couldn't go any further, so I collapsed. I was done fore and would've been caught, but Snape showed up and saved me."

Harry raised his eyebrows, looking dubious. "He _saved _you?"

She nodded. "I would either be dead or in Azkaban if he hadn't."

Harry looked fairly confused. "But why would _Snape_ save _you_?"

Hermione smirked. "Only to pay a debt."

Harry shook his head, obviously still not understanding why Snape had saved her.

"I saved his life back in Hogsmeade, at the Three Broomsticks. That time _he_ was the wounded one and I dragged _him_ out of it. He hates owing people." Hermione thought it was strange to be talking to Harry about Snape, who was probably listening to their conversation at that very moment. And the fact that she knew things about Snape that Harry didn't . . . that was the strangest thing of all.

Hermione motioned towards the table, and they sat down. Harry had been distracted until then, but now he noticed that there were two plates of half-finished food there rather than one. He looked at Snape's plate and then back at Hermione questioningly. Before she could open her mouth to answer, Snape opened the curtains to his room and stepped into the main part of the tent. Harry was sitting in the proper chair so that he was facing the entrance to Snape's compartment, and he gaped when the older wizard walked in.

"S-Snape," he said, sounding rather awed.

"Potter," Snape said, inclining his head just a bit in response and greeting. His tone was a bit harsh, but it wasn't half as cruel and unkind as he had been when Harry was in school.

Hermione noticed that Harry was still looking awed and shocked, and realized that this was probably the first time Harry had seen Snape since the older wizard was supposedly killed in the Shrieking Shack. No wonder there was such a strange look on Harry's face; to hear that Snape was alive was one thing, but to actually _see_ him was quite another, especially after Harry had been there with Hermione and Ron to see him killed.

Snape and Hermione usually sat on opposite sides of the square table, but as Harry had taken Snape's seat, the older wizard seated himself in the chair between the two younger people. He reached over and slid his plate of food so that it was in front of him rather than Harry. Hermione pulled out her beaded bag and waved her wand, and a new plate of food arranged itself for Harry.

She pushed the plate across the table to him, and then resumed eating, as Snape had. He joined them, but he talked as he ate, and Hermione was more than willing to answer. Harry gave her news, as well as some light, playful banter and good conversation. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed this kind of talking with someone. Snape, of course, wasn't one to waste time on idle chatter or gossiping, and it felt great to be talking to Harry again.

When they had finished eating and Hermione had dealt with the dishes, Harry stood up. He had hung the invisibility cloak on the coatrack near the door, but now he took it from the hook it had been hanging on. Hermione was surprised when he walked back to her and held the cloak out. "This is the real reason I came," he said. "It's going to be nearly impossible for you to go anywhere civilized now, and Kingsley can't promise anything when it comes to keeping his aurors on a leash. There's something dark going on in the Ministry; that much is obvious. Kingsley really has his work cut out for him, trying to keep a hold on his aurors and also trying to run the wizarding world while working on finding out more about who it is that's working so hard to make sure people think you two are evil.

"Anyways, I'm getting off track. I came to give this to you so you can go where you want without having to worry about being seen or getting caught. And though I'd like to say that things will be resolved by then, I can't guarantee that you'll be declared innocent by winter. Hermione, you know as well as I do how hard it is to survive in the forest and find food without a shop to buy bread at; you'll need some way to get food and whatever else you need. If you use this," he pressed the cloak into Hermione's hands, "then you can do all that."

"Harry," Hermione said, shaking her head. But before she could go on, he raised his hand to keep her quiet.

"Good luck," he said, and he hugged her. When he drew back, he gave her shoulder one last squeeze and said, "Stay safe." Then he turned to Snape, who had also risen from his seat. Harry held out his hand, and Snape shook it after a moment's pause. "Thank you," Harry said, "for everything that you did for me over the years, and for saving Hermione. I owe you so much."

Snape nodded once, and then Harry left. Hermione watched him go, and when she turned back to face the table, Snape had gone to his room and closed the curtains. She clutched the invisibility cloak in her hands, holding it to her heart. It was the only physical piece of her best friend that she had left to hold near to her. She went to her own room and closed the curtains before she sat down on the bed.

She spent the next hour musing over how she was holding one of the Deathly Hallows in her hands, when just a year before she hadn't even believed in their existence. This particular one had been Harry's, right under her nose, for years. It was, aside from his wand, his most valuable possession, and he was trusting her with it now. She fingered the fabric lightly, smiling as she remembered all of the adventures she and Harry and Ron had gone on in their first few years at Hogwarts. How different things were now . . .

**After the last chapter, I was really into the story, so I didn't wait at all to start writing again! I won't always be able to update every day, but I **_**will**_** try, for you guys. I have some interesting ideas about what the next couple of chapters will hold, so I can't wait to start writing those! Thank you so much for reading, and as always, I'd love to hear what you have to say about this chapter. And if you have any comments/advice/corrections then by all means, let me know! I hope you have a magical day! ~Taelr**


	6. The Word

Severus took another deep breath. It was early morning, but usually by this time the smell of whatever breakfast Granger was making pervaded the tent. However, today there was nothing but the moist scent of the wet canvas, as the tent was covered in that morning's dew. Severus always woke first, and though he could never hear Granger when she rose and left her room, he had always before been aware of her presence in the main part of the tent. Today, however, he'd strained to catch just a bit of noise from her usual quiet moving about, but there had been nothing. He hadn't been concerned until now.

Rising, he opened the curtains that separated his compartment from the rest of the tent and entered the main room, turning to look toward Granger's compartment. The curtains were closed, and he wondered if perhaps she was just tired and had slept in that day. Relaxing, he left the tent and went to the river's edge, as he often did in the morning. The night that Potter had visited them they had moved back to the Forest of Dean, though they were in a new location within the forest. They had found a nice place to camp and cast their enchantments, right on the bank of the river. It was only yesterday that Potter had come to see them, but Severus thought that Granger might be missing her friend, hence her departure from her usual daily routine. She would probably be up and making breakfast when he returned to the tent.

But she wasn't. So he sat down in his place at the table. His eyes wandered aimlessly around the tent as he mused over how long he and Granger had been on the run separately before they were working together, and how long it had been since her close encounter with the Ministry in London. His gaze was drawn to the cages in the corner when a chicken clucked lightly, and he was pulled away from his thoughts. Every morning when he left his room and entered the main part of the tent, the chickens had been fed. This of course made sense because Granger had already risen and left her rooms by then.

And today, while he was sure that she had not yet risen or left her rooms, the chickens appeared to have food and water. He left his seat and moved closer to the birds in their cages, leaning down. Yes, they had already been fed and watered that day. He went so far as to check for the three eggs that were always waiting beneath the chickens, but there were none. Did this mean that Granger had already cared for the birds that day? Then where was she?

Narrowing his eyes, he turned back to face her curtains. He was suddenly very afraid that she'd taken her things and left. But why? What had he done that would cause her to do such a thing? No longer caring about proper manners or how inappropriate it was, he walked right up to the curtains and threw them open. And, true to his fearful expectations, her compartment was empty. Her beaded bag was not anywhere to be found, and neither was Potter's cloak. Did she think that because she could now move about without being seen that she could just up and leave the tent and the camp? It wasn't a very logical thing to do, and Severus was sure that, much as he disliked to admit it, she was smarter than that. It seemed absurd that she would make a move without first thinking it through, and if she'd thought this through then she would have dismissed the idea at once.

But her belongings _were_ gone. In fact, she'd left nothing other than the tent as evidence that she'd ever been there. Granted, her possessions weren't many, but the tent still felt a bit emptier without them. And without _her_. Severus had been betrayed or deserted plenty of times during his life, but never before had he felt so confused and concerned about _why_ he'd been deserted and _where_ the deserter might be. What if she'd gone and gotten herself captured? Then there was no hope for her, because Severus knew that there would never be a way for him to get her out of Azkaban.

That strange, uncalled for desire to protect and defend Granger was slowly building in him once more, though he was unsure of why he would feel such things. And for _Granger_ of all people. So he reasoned with himself; perhaps it was just the knowledge that she was so young and so innocent, and didn't deserve the same fate as him. He was just trying to save a young person from making his mistakes or going to Azkaban for something she didn't do. And she and Potter seemed to genuinely believe that there was just a bit of good left in him, so maybe that good was trying its best to make itself known, compelling him to save_ her_. Perhaps.

But he didn't have time to ponder this now; she was gone and she'd taken the cloak, which meant she was probably sneaking around in some place she shouldn't be. But where was he even supposed to start looking? She had grown up and lived for eleven years with muggles, as had he, but their lives had been completely opposite. He hadn't the slightest idea of where she might have gone, and if she was trying to evade the Ministry _and_ him then searching for her was hopeless.

He stood there, motionless, still facing Granger's rooms. Much as he wanted to do something, _anything_ to ensure that she wasn't yet caught and that she wouldn't be, he knew that he could do nothing. Nothing at all. He experienced a strange sense of failure, and the feeling that he'd failed her in some way crept into his heart. If he even had a heart left. He himself wasn't sure what he still possessed of a heart, after everything he'd been through in his life. But now, feeling suddenly quite wretched and desolate at the idea of failing once again, he realized that there must be something of his heart left. If only a small, tattered remnant, still there it remained within his chest.

He hadn't been moving at all, aside from his breathing, but he stopped doing even that when someone said something very quietly outside of the tent. He hadn't truly caught whatever it was that they said, but he was quite sure that whoever was there had uttered the password that would allow them to enter the protective enchantments. Severus turned around slowly, so that he was facing the entrance to the tent. He waited, musing over the idea that whoever had entered the enchantments was taking a moment to seal them after they'd entered. It had to be Granger, as she was the only one who knew the password and the exact location of the camp, but there was strange feeling in Severus' gut that told him it wasn't her and that it was foolish to hope so.

He drew his wand and waited for whoever it was to enter the tent. The folds of canvas that were the entrance to the tent moved as if being blown open by wind, but Severus felt no breeze. They fell back into place, then, and he lifted his wand, narrowing his eyes at the place right in front of the entrance. He opened his mouth and had just decided which spell to use when a familiar female voice said quite cheerfully, "Please don't."

He sighed as a wave of relief and unreleased concern washed over him. It occurred to him that never before had he felt so entirely comforted and reassured by the appearance of someone. And right at that moment, he swore to himself that he would get her out of this. If it was the last thing he did, he would prove that she was innocent and ensure that she would have a future of freedom and opportunity. And even if it meant that he had to turn himself in or die, he would. He was still, however, not privy as to exactly _why_ he felt this way.

Hermione watched as Snape relaxed and put his wand back in his robes. But he seemed more than just slightly calmed when he found out it was her; he looked utterly comforted and relieved. There wasn't much physical evidence to prove that he actually felt this way, but Hermione could see the relief in his eyes, and she was still very good at reading his expression and his body language and guessing what he was thinking. He hadn't yet taken his eyes off of the place where she was standing, though she knew that he still couldn't see her. She wiped the smirk she was wearing off of her face and reached up, shrugging out of the invisibility cloak and throwing it over her shoulder.

She turned her back on Snape when she passed him, but she could feel his eyes following her when she entered her room and tossed the invisibility cloak onto the bed. Then she turned back and marched into the main part of the tent without looking at Snape again. She knew that he was still watching her as she took out her beaded bag and opened it, drawing out a large bowl, which she set on the table. She then proceeded to pull multiple fruits and vegetables from her bag, setting them in the bowl. When she had taken out all of the fruit and vegetables, she felt around in the bag until she found her wooden tray, onto which she set three perfect, still-steaming loaves of bread. On a plate, she set an entire wheel of cheese, and she set a large pitcher of pumpkin juice on the table as well.

Then she took out the eggs that she had collected that morning and set them in a pan over the fire to cook, along with several strips of bacon. Snape didn't say a word while she was doing all of this, so she kept quiet as well. While the eggs and bacon cooked, she sliced the bread and the cheese. Then she made up two plates and poured two cups of pumpkin juice. Snape had seated himself, and she set his food in front of him. Without a word, he added bread and cheese to his plate.

It occurred to Hermione just how quiet Snape was being. Not that he was ever very talkative, but he usually said at least one word to her in the morning, and she'd just brought home enough food to last them the next month, but he was still completely silent. At last, thoroughly annoyed by his lack of conversation, she said, "Sorry breakfast is late; it took a bit longer than I expected."

She started in surprise when he dropped his fork and knife with a bit more force than was actually necessary. She had been in the process of bringing her first bite of food to her mouth, and she stopped. She lowered her fork slowly back down to the table when she saw the way that he was glaring at her. First she frowned, wondering what on earth was the matter, and then she raised her eyebrows, silently asking why he seemed so upset.

For a few moments, he only continued to glower at her. "_It_ took a bit longer than you expected," he spat, repeating what she'd just said.

She frowned again. "Yes, that's what I said."

She flinched when leaned forward suddenly and snarled, "_What_ took longer than you expected?"

Hermione thought that maybe she was finally getting down to the reason why he was so upset. He didn't know where she'd gone, and that bothered him. Perhaps because they were supposed to be a sort of team, and he'd wanted them to work together. Or perhaps because she hadn't told him where she was going beforehand and had just up and disappeared. "Obviously," she said, allowing a bit of sarcasm into her voice, "I went to get all this," and she waved a hand rather dramatically over the food spread out on the table. "There's more in my bag, too."

But he was still glaring. "Where?" he asked, rather than saying anything about the food.

Hermione studied his expression, but his thoughts were shielded from her careful calculations at the moment, so she answered. She started to say, "London-"

But he interrupted before she could say more. He exploded, actually, bringing his hands down rather hard on the table and standing up so quickly that his chair toppled over backwards behind him. "London?" he roared. "Are you completely mad?"

In spite of her attempts at acting unaffected by his behavior, Hermione knew her eyes were now very wide, and she swallowed nervously. She opened her mouth to respond, but he didn't let her.

He went on, still roaring, "What were you thinking? Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? You could've been seen, or caught, or killed! And for what, a bit of food? Of all the foolish, reckless, thoughtless, irrational . . .!" he stopped, chest heaving, quite red in the face from all the yelling he was doing. He looked too angry to continue.

But Hermione was too annoyed to wonder why he seemed so genuinely concerned about her. She had risked her life in order to provide for them and _this _was how he thanked her? Rather than feeling ashamed or embarrassed about her reckless behavior, she was furious. She stood up, too, knocking her chair over in her haste, just the way he had. "Thank you," she said, her boiling rage only just contained in her calm, even voice, "for the lecture." Then her voice rose several octaves higher than usual. She leaned forward, placing her hands on the edge of the table for support, and shouted, "You can't tell me what to do! And you can't scold me when I make my own decisions! You're not my father!"

The crease between his brows deepened when she said this, but he only narrowed his eyes and continued to glare at her. He said nothing, but he noted the sudden change in her expression. She was obviously completely furious with him as she spoke . . . until her last sentence. As soon as she'd said the word _father_ her fury had seemed to melt away and dissipate into nothingness, replaced by a sudden weight and sadness. Her eyes were still on him, but Severus knew that she wasn't seeing him. She seemed to have completely forgotten that he was even there, and she dropped her eyes a moment later, lifting her arms to hug herself.

And then she was blinking rapidly, not looking at him. He wasn't sure she was even aware of his presence in the room. Even though she had turned her head and was staring at the wall of the tent, he saw the moisture that filled her eyes and the tears that leaked out and rolled down her cheeks. She swallowed and turned away from the table, not even looking at her chair, which was still lying on its side. Without a word, she walked slowly to her room, still hugging herself fiercely, as if she was in the process of falling apart and was desperately trying to hold herself together. Even when she turned around to close the curtains behind her, she didn't look at him, and there was a faraway look in her tear-filled eyes.

The anger and the wrath had left him, and he looked down at the table. His meal was only half-eaten, and she hadn't yet even taken that first bite of hers. She had left her beaded bag on the table, so he carefully put away all of the food that wasn't on their two plates. He walked around the table and set her chair back on its legs before doing the same to his. Then he cast a charm over her food that would keep it from spoiling and sat down in his chair. But his appetite had deserted him, so he cast the same charm over his own plate of food and retired to his own room to wait; surely Granger's strange bout of emotional trauma would go away before long.

But it didn't, and just as he had that morning, he felt concerned for her. Of course, now he knew where she was and that she was physically safe, but he was anxious, and he felt that it was his fault that she was now holed up in her compartment of the tent and not coming out. So he ate his breakfast for lunch and sat at the table for almost an hour, waiting for her to show. And yet, she never did.

At last, he stood up and set the kettle over the fire to boil. He poured her a cup of tea and removed the charm from her plate of food before picking it up. He walked to the entrance to her compartment and smirked; there wasn't a door or even a solid wall to knock on to announce his presence or his desire to speak to her. So he cleared his throat loudly, wondering if she'd fallen asleep, and said, "Granger."

Hermione was sitting on her bed with her knees pulled up to her chest when he cleared his throat and said her name. She wondered what he wanted and why he was bothering. For a moment she paused, considering just staying there silently and not answering. Would he go away and leave her be if she didn't respond? But what did he want anyways? Sniffing, she wiped the tears from her cheeks and moved to the edge of the bed, letting her legs down. She stood up and smoothed her robes before walking to the curtains and opening them just a bit, only enough to see Snape through a small crack. She had already opened her mouth to demand what he wanted, but she closed it in surprise when she saw that he was holding her plate of breakfast and a cup of tea. Both were steaming, and she wondered if he'd somehow preserved her food to keep it from cooling or going stale.

She knew her eyes were just a bit wider than usual as she opened the curtains all of the way. He glanced at her face and then away, though he looked bored rather than embarrassed. Hermione gave another involuntary sniff and waited for him to say something. But, as expected, he did not. Instead, he held out the tray of food and tea and waited for her to take it. She did, and turned around to set it on her bedside table. She then turned around to thank him, saying as she turned, "Thank y-" but he was gone and the curtains to his compartment were closed.

So she closed her own curtains and went to sit on her bed. It was then that she noticed that he'd set her beaded bag on her tray as well, and she tucked it away in her robes. Then she set to eating.

Meanwhile, Severus was back in his room musing over how strange women were. He had no idea how to deal with them in general, let alone a teenage girl—_all right_, he thought, _a_ _young woman_—who was having an emotional breakdown. And he still didn't understand exactly what had set her off. She'd broken down after she'd said the word _father_ so perhaps that had something to do with it. But why should she be reduced to tears at the thought of her father? As far as Severus knew, her parents were both still alive and unharmed by the war.

He didn't know that she'd erased their memories and given them new ones, causing them to move to Australia. So he was quite puzzled over why she would be so affected by the thought of her father.

Severus also felt indignant; of course he wasn't her father. He hadn't intended to sound like her father when he started lecturing her about her decision to go to London. But then again he had only really been venting his anger and hadn't thought through what he was going to say to her, or how he was going to express his disapproval.

The hours passed, and he heard when she left her room and started moving about the tent. He wondered if she was making dinner, and his suspicions were confirmed when she cleared her throat and the sound of plates being set on the table could be heard. So he rose, leaving his room to join her in the main part of the tent. He took his seat and looked down at his plate, which was full of steaming, fresh food.

Granger didn't look at him, and he assumed that she was angry with him for the row they'd been through earlier and the way that it had ended. But he wasn't going to apologize. He hadn't done anything wrong. He'd only scolded her—as he should have—for her irresponsible actions. _She_ was the one who'd started yelling and mentioned her father. He hadn't brought up her parent. And even if he had, he would remain without fault, as he was still quite unaware of why she had been so distressed.

He was only a bit surprised, though, when she said at the end of the meal, "I'm sorry," before he could leave the table and retire to his room.

He didn't respond, but she seemed to take no notice of this, and went about cleaning the dishes and putting them away as she always did. He had just turned to return to his room when she spoke suddenly.

Her voice was still quite apologetic as she said quietly, "I won't leave without discussing it with you first."

He stopped walking then and turned to face her again. She seemed mildly surprised when he did this, but he ignored the questioning look on her face. "No," he said, noting the look in her eyes, "I am _not _about to thank you for consenting to discuss and plan any _outings_ with me; I was simply a bit curious and wished to know how you avoided setting off another caterwauling charm while in London."

"I apparated into the forest outside of London, and walked the rest of the way," she said. "I was invisible, so once I'd apparated in there weren't any problems. Of course, I took off the cloak while I was in the muggle shops; I prefer to pay for the things I take."

Severus smirked. "I see," was all he said. Then he turned and entered his room, closing the curtains behind him.

Hermione tended to the chickens and then left the tent to go stand on the bank of the river and watch the sun setting. She sniffed a few times as she thought about what had happened. Remembering her parents was never easy, but remembering them at a time when she was already very emotional was too much. And with Snape of all people! He was so uncaring and horridly cruel. Hermione had never wished so much that she could be traveling with Harry and Ron again.

**Well, I've just screwed up my knee, so I won't be running any marathons (or even walking very far) anytime soon! Just in case you wanted an update on my personal life. Anyways, though, here's the latest and I hope you liked it. Leave a review if you've got a moment? **

**And a massive THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed so far; seeing your comments always makes my day! Sometimes writing is a little hard, but your reviews make it all so worth it! And I love to hear what you have to say, whether your message is short or long (though I do really appreciate those of you who've been leaving me extra-long comments and things; it's wonderful). Thanks again! ~Taelr**


	7. Kingsley's Letter

Four weeks had passed since Hermione's return from London and she and Snape's argument had left her in tears. Four weeks that were quite unlike any other weeks before them. The first week after their argument, things had been tense and uncomfortable. But they'd eventually found their way back to their quiet, slightly-uncomfortable but still-bearable way of life that had begun when they first started running together rather than apart. That week, Hermione had gone out and found more herbs and caught more fish, but their meals no longer consisted only of eggs, watercress, and aquatic animals. She'd spent the entire time wishing she was with Ron or Harry, or both of them. Or maybe even Neville or Luna. Anyone would be better than Snape. Living with _him_ was a nightmare.

The second week after their argument, Hermione lightened up quite a bit. She decided to put the past behind them and started to focus on planning how often she should make trips to London. But while she had successfully shoved thoughts of her parents and friends out of her mind for the moment, Snape hadn't come around just yet, and he maintained his previous cold silence.

In truth, Severus wasn't angry with her as much as he was confused at her actions. During the first week after their argument, he'd given her as much space as he could to work out whatever she needed to. But the entire time, he was studying her. By the second week after their argument, he thought he'd figured out what had happened to her parents. He was quite sure that they were still alive but assumed that something had to have happened to them during the war. However, he didn't think they'd been attacked or sent to Saint Mungo's, so he was unsure about what exactly had happened to them. Perhaps Granger had gotten emotional and started crying because she missed her parents and was being forced to stay away from them. Yes, that had to be it. But then, what did they think their daughter was doing that was so important that she couldn't come to visit them? Did they know that she was a wanted fugitive and that they were most likely being watched by the Ministry of Magic themselves?

And during that single week of giving Granger as much space as possible, he'd gotten quite used to living in silence. And, though he would never admit it, he was becoming increasingly fascinated and interested with Granger, as studying and observing her closely had brought new things about her to his attention. He was beginning to notice things about her that he had never been aware of before, little things that he wouldn't have bothered with if he hadn't been watching her so closely.

The third week after their argument, Hermione finally got Snape to talk again, and they briefly discussed how often Hermione would go to London—or some other town—for supplies and food and whatever they needed. However, this discussion lasted only a matter of moments and as soon as it was over, silence reigned once more. They were quiet for most of that week.

Even as the fourth week slipped by, they spoke only as much as was necessary. Hermione was finding that she was oddly all right with the quiet, and realized how accustomed to it she had become whenever they did speak and their voices seemed unnecessarily loud.

Severus continued to study her, finding more and more which he'd never cared to notice before. And for some reason, the little things he was finding were actually interesting and held his attention. He had been a spy for almost his entire life, and was very good at keeping his watchfulness a secret from the object of his fascination, but unbeknownst to him, she was still uncannily aware of him and his every move; she knew that he was watching her. And this awareness of him was helpful to her, because she was watching him, too, and she could tell when he was about to look up or glance her way, and when she should drop her gaze or look back at whatever she was doing. And just the same, he was aware of the fact that she was studying him, but most of her watching went unnoticed.

So they lived quietly, speaking rarely and watching always. They moved to a new location each week, even if they were retracing the steps of the horcrux hunt over and again. And all the while, they were engaged in a silent, unspoken battle that neither had intended to enter, a contest of who could watch and observe without being seen or caught.

Hermione set two plates of food on the table and sat down. Snape seated himself across from her a moment later and they began to eat without a word to one another. Hermione kept her eyes on her food and didn't look up at him even though she could feel his gaze on her. She'd grown rather used to knowing that he was watching her, and it wasn't even unsettling or strange anymore. In a way, she'd ceased to care, but at the same time she realized that she would actually be concerned if he suddenly stopped watching her as avidly as he was now.

She had been secretly hoping with all her heart that Harry would show up again and bring her some kind of news from the Ministry or something new about the Weasleys, or the Order of the Phoenix. She would be happy if all he did was show up, even with no news at all. She missed him even more than she missed Ron, which she had at first thought strange. But after puzzling over it for quite a while, she'd given up and simply assumed that since she'd ended things with Ron, they'd grown apart, while she and Harry were somehow still best friends and close as ever.

As always, Snape rose from his seat and left the tent for his evening walk, and Hermione cleaned the dishes and put away whatever food was left in her beaded bag. When this was finished, Hermione pocketed her bag and went to kneel beside the chickens' cages to make sure that they had food and water. When she had cared for them she rose and walked to her compartment in the tent. She didn't need to glance at the entrance to the tent to know exactly how many paces away from it Snape was standing. Closing the curtains to her room behind her, she set her bag on the bedside table with her wand and lay down, not bothering to change out of her robes. She was so used to sleeping in them and magically smoothing and fixing them in the morning that she hadn't spent a night in her pajamas in quite a long while.

Severus returned to the tent a while later, going straight to his compartment and closing the curtains without so much as a glance around the rest of the tent. He set his wand on his own bedside table and lay down. The dying fire cast wavering shadows over the interior of the tent and on the curtains that led to the two separate compartments, but the witch and wizard paid the shadows no attention, though both of them were still awake.

Another uneventful week passed, quietly and without incident. Hermione was at the edge of the lake where they were camped, standing with her bare feet in a place where the shallowest water could lap at her bare feet. She tossed a smooth stone at the water, and it skipped twice. She smiled sadly, remembering when Ron and Harry had taught her how to skip rocks. She threw another rock, but this time it hit the water once, splashing loudly, and sank immediately. She turned to look to her right, where a large group of trees were growing right on the edge of the water. There were several large boulders there as well, and she thought she'd heard something moving between the trees and the rocks.

But nothing showed, and she reminded herself that Snape had cast the enchantments around their camp to reach the water's edge, so she was still safe and invisible. Sighing, she looked back out over the water. She picked up three more flat rocks and threw the first one at the water, watching with a satisfied smirk when it skipped three times. She managed to skip the second rock as well, but produced only another loud splash with the third. She turned sharply and watched with wide eyes when something hit the water loudly to her right. She was quite sure that whatever had just hit the water had been thrown from behind the nearest boulder, which was only a matter of feet away from where she stood, though it was outside of the protective enchantments. She stared once more when a rock flew from behind the boulder and skipped four times across the water before sinking.

Who was skipping rocks at the lake? Hermione was quite sure that no one had been to the place where they were camped in a very long time, and it wasn't a particularly nice day, so why anyone would be near the water at a time like this was unfathomable to her. Still within the protective enchantments, she resisted the urge to go and see who the intruder was and instead backed away from the water and sat down to put her shoes back on and wait and see if whoever had come was going to skip more rocks. And they did. Whoever was hiding behind the boulder skipped four more rocks and then there was silence. Hermione waited for a long while before deciding that the intruder must have left.

So she stood again, picking up several rocks as she did, and began skipping them once more. She'd just skipped her third when yet another rock flew from behind the boulder and skipped across the water, followed closely by another rock. Hermione frowned at the boulder. Who was behind it? And what were they doing? Had they seen her rocks skipping across the water and wondered where they were from, or were they simply skipping their own, oblivious to her presence?

She waited a while longer, and the mysterious rock-skipper behind the boulder made no move. So she stopped to consider things for a moment. Even if the person behind the rock saw her rocks skipping across the water, if they decided to come investigate then the protective enchantments around the camp would compel the unwanted intruder to leave and perhaps cause him to forget why he'd come looking in the first place. It seemed highly unlikely that the person behind the boulder was anyone special or anything more than a muggle out for a stroll. So Hermione took a chance and skipped another rock across the water.

As soon as her rock had sunk beneath the surface, another rock skipped out from behind the boulder. She chose to ignore this, and skipped a second rock. Likewise, a second rock followed it from behind the boulder. She waited, and no more rocks appeared from behind the boulder. But as soon as she threw a rock, a new one would follow it. Frowning, she took out her beaded bag and pulled the invisibility cloak from it. She pocketed the bag again and put on the cloak, watching as her body disappeared beneath her. Pulling the hood of the cloak up to cover her head, she stepped out of the protective enchantments and moved as quietly as she could, making her way around the boulder with her wand drawn.

_It's just a muggle,_ she thought to herself over and again. _It's just a muggle. It's just a muggle. It's just a muggle._

But it wasn't. She nearly fell over in surprise when she came around the boulder and found someone dressed in dark wizard's robes, leaning against a tree and tossing a small stone from hand to hand. Hardly daring to breathe, she moved to the left, right against the boulder; she needed to see the face of the unknown wizard, whose head was concealed by the hood of his cloak. She stepped carefully, but had to keep her eyes both on her feet and on the wizard, who was standing so close that if he should reach out his hands or suddenly move forward, he would touch her or they would collide. And since her eyes were busy and in two places at once, she didn't step carefully enough. She set her foot on a loose rock and it moved, causing her to twist her ankle badly. She managed to grab ahold of the boulder behind her and regain her balance, but it would be impossible to silently navigate her way back to the protective enchantments on one foot. So she froze.

She clung to the rock with her left hand and pointed her wand at the wizard with her right. She resisted the urge to sigh or make any noise at the thought of how furious Snape would be when he found out what kind of situation she'd gotten herself into, _if_ she wasn't caught and ever made it back to the tent. Then again, if she did make it back, she could just say that she'd been clumsy while walking on the rocks. But part of her knew that if she tried to lie to Snape, he would know that there was more she wasn't telling him. Just as she would have known if he tried to lie to her or hide something from her. They were too keenly aware of each other and had studied each other too much to miss something like that.

She shifted her weight just a bit, trying to balance better on her one foot, but slipped. She grasped desperately at the rock behind her, but succeeded only at scratching her fingers and hand. She watched the wizard, not taking her eyes off of him even though she knew that without her eyes, she would never find a hand hold and keep herself from falling. But her fingers found a crevice to grip, and she stopped herself from falling at the wizard's feet. Of course, he'd heard her hand scrabbling desperately against the rock and her feet slipping on the wet and mossy rock, and he turned away from the water to look at the place where she'd been standing. When he turned to face her, she could clearly see his face, and she was simultaneously so shocked and relieved that she let go of the rock and fell on her back. The hood of the invisibility cloak fell away from her head, and she knew she'd been caught, but it didn't matter anymore because she knew who was standing beside her.

"Hermione!" He pulled back his hood as soon as he saw her face. He sounded both pleased and concerned to see her.

"Hello," she said quietly as she tried to get back to her feet without hurting her left ankle further.

He laughed and held out a hand even though he couldn't see her body. But she shook her head. "I twisted my ankle," she explained. So she managed to get out of the invisibility cloak and he helped her carefully to her feet.

She pointed her wand at her ankle. "It's not broken, just twisted. _Episkey_." And with that, she was fine. "All right," she said, giving him a quick hug, "I suppose you didn't just show up to skip rocks and confuse me?"

It felt good to laugh and smile again as they walked towards the enchantments. Hermione spoke the password and watched the enchantments close behind them and they walked to the tent, which she entered first. Snape was sitting at the table, gazing blankly at the wall, and Hermione knew that his mind was far away from the camp. But as soon as she entered, he blinked and turned his gaze to them. He looked their guest up and down, and inclined his chin ever so slightly before looking away. "Potter."

"Sir."

Hermione duplicated her chair and sat beside Harry, waiting for him to explain the reason for his visit. "You probably guessed," he said, "but I didn't just come to say 'hello'."

Hermione nodded.

He reached into his robes and pulled out an envelope sealed with a familiar red wax seal. "Here," he said, setting it on the table in front of Hermione. "It's from Kingsley."

"Kingsley?" she asked, picking up the envelope and looking it over.

Harry nodded. "He said it was urgent that I got this to you right away."

Hermione nodded, but she'd already broken the seal and started reading, so she only heard half of what Harry was saying.

Harry sat back and waited for her to read, and while he waited, he glanced at Snape. The older wizard seemed quite interested in the contents of the letter now that he knew it was from the Minister of Magic.

Harry returned his gaze to Hermione when she gasped quietly, but she kept on reading and didn't explain. When she had finished reading, she set the letter down on the table and leaned back in her chair, staring into space for a moment. Snape and Harry waited in silence for her to say something, and it was several long moments before she spoke.

"I'm going to the Ministry of Magic."

Harry didn't have anything but air in his mouth, and yet he nearly choked. "What?!" he spluttered.

Hermione handed him the letter. "Kingsley's found a way to prove me innocent. He needs to meet me in his office at the Ministry," she explained.

Harry read as she explained further, and when he finished, he handed the letter back to her and shook his head. "It's too dangerous," he said.

But Hermione shook her head as well. "No, it's not. We have the invisibility cloak, Harry! You'll go to the Ministry, and I'll come with you, but I won't be visible and we'll pass to Kingsley's office without trouble. And even if they catch us, Kingsley said in the letter that he's made it official; if any witch or wizard sees me on my way to the Ministry, they are to leave me be and let me go."

Harry seemed like he wanted to say more, but he didn't open his mouth. Instead, his brow creased and he turned to look at Snape, who hadn't said a word. But the eyes of the man who had once been their potions master were focused on some distant point, and he didn't appear to notice Harry's glance his way.

"C'mon, Harry," Hermione said, causing him to look back to her, "it won't be so bad. Who knows, maybe I'll leave the Ministry as a free witch without the law on her tail!"

Harry noticed that Snape looked at Hermione when she spoke, and she returned his gaze for just a moment. Then the older wizard looked away again.

So they left the tent together, with Hermione hidden beneath the invisibility cloak and Harry walking, completely visible, beside her. They apparated right into London, which surprised Hermione. When she asked Harry about it, he said, "The Ministry made a new law, so that no one could apparate into London or any of the towns of the wizarding world. They wanted to catch you, see. But witches and wizards kept forgetting or making mistakes and caterwauling charms were being set off all over the place, so the Ministry had to take back their law and remove the charms. It got to be too much of a hassle, what with them splitting up and flying to find out if any of the charms had gone off because of you or Snape. And they realized that by the time they showed up, you two would have been long gone and hiding or sneaking around anyways."

Hermione nodded and stepped so that she was walking behind Harry; people were passing closely by his side and she would have bumped into one of them because they couldn't see her. She and Harry found their way to the telephone booth and stepped inside. Harry stepped forward and dialed "62442," and they received their passes. A moment later the booth began to move and they sank into the ground.

Hermione knew that she would not be stopped if she entered the Ministry visibly, but kept the invisibility cloak on anyway, just to be safe. She didn't, after all, want an escort of aurors and guards who would follow her around to make sure she stayed out of trouble.

She and Harry stepped out of the phone booth and made their way to the nearest lift. She followed closely at his heels and he led the way, and the lift wasn't terribly crowded, so Hermione just watched carefully to avoid being run into or stepped on. When they reached the proper floor they went on their way, eventually standing in front of the large doors to Kingsley's office. But before Harry could knock on the doors or ask a nearby auror if Kingsley had time for a short meeting, the Minister came around a corner. He was looking down at some papers, but glanced up and brightened when he saw Harry.

"Ah, Mister Potter," he said, raising his eyebrows and pushing open the door to his office, which he held as Harry walked in.

Hermione noticed that he glanced down and appeared to be reading the papers in his hands, giving her a few extra moments to slip through the door after Harry. The Minister seemed to hear her soft, carefully-placed footsteps and entered the office after her, closing and locking the door behind him. Hermione glanced around to be sure that it was just her, Kingsley, and Harry in the room, and then pulled the hood of the cloak back.

Kingsley nodded to her, but the warm smile he'd worn in the hall outside of his office was now gone. "We needn't hurry, for I'm not short on time," he said, "but this shouldn't take long. Please, have a seat," and he waved a hand at the two chairs in front of his desk. He moved to sit behind his desk just as Hermione and Harry seated themselves, and set the papers he'd been carrying on his desk. Then he looked up at them.

It was Harry who spoke first, and Hermione sensed how impatient he was. "You said in the letter that you had found a way to prove Hermione innocent."

"In a manner of speaking, yes," the Minister replied. He seemed pensive as he turned his eyes to Hermione. "We wouldn't be proving your innocence as much as recognizing that you were confused and tired and had just been through a battle when you attacked the Ministry aurors. We're really just finding a way to get you forgiven and to have the charges against you withdrawn."

Hermione nodded. "What do I have to do?"

**I haven't updated in over a month and I feel terrible about it. But I've honestly been extremely busy with finishing this semester of school and being involved in several programs I now wish I'd never signed up for! I know this chapter was very short, but I promise I'll make it up to you all; I will start writing the next chapter as soon as I've published this, and that one should be up and available to read in the next two days, so you won't have long to wait. **

**But I hope you enjoyed this chapter (terribly short as it was) and please stick around to read the next! Thank you all so much for reading and all of you who have reviewed really make my day! Love you all. ~Taelr**


	8. Just A Dream

She watched Kingsley's face and listened intently, waiting for him to speak. "First," he said at last, "You attacked two aurors and in doing so, made a move against the Ministry. You'll need to make a public apology and humble yourself before them and the Wizengamot."

Hermione nodded. "You said 'first.' Is there more?"

He dipped his chin in the slightest of nods but was silent.

Hermione waited patiently, but Harry leaned forward in his chair beside her. "Well?" he asked, "What after the apology?"

"Then," Kingsley began, looking quite unwilling to begin. He turned to look at Hermione again. "Then you will need to turn in the man you originally defended, the true fugitive. A public apology is not enough to clear the charges."

Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. Her face had been composed, a smooth mask that betrayed none of her emotions, but she felt her composure slip and knew that Kingsley had seen, for a split-second, her reaction.

He didn't wait for her to speak. "You know that I am completely aware of Severus Snape's true allegiance and his role in the winning of the war. But this is absolutely necessary if you want to be acquitted. I will do everything in my power to prove his innocence."

Hermione had composed her face again, but inside there was turmoil and utter chaos. However, her voice was calm and even when she asked, "And if I do turn him in? What happens to him then?"

He said a single word, and with that one word made up Hermione's mind about the matter of turning Snape in. "Azkaban," he said quietly.

But though her mind was made up, Hermione said nothing.

"I will prove him innocent and have him freed as soon as I possibly can," the Minister said, but he could see by the look in Hermione's eyes that she wasn't really listening what he said. She was thinking of other things.

"There must be some other way," Harry broke in suddenly.

The Minister only shook his head. "This is it."

He could clearly see that Hermione was done talking, and she looked up at him again when he spoke. His voice assumed the thick monotone he used when making official statements as he said, "You have one week to decide. Let me know what your answer is and we can make arrangements for the public apology. If you do accept this offer, you will have one month to turn Snape in. Whether that is by working with aurors and maneuvering him into a trap, or attacking him and bringing him here yourself, is up to you."

Moments later they were outside of the Ministry and walking through the busy streets of London once more. Hermione took Harry's hand and they apparated back to the lake where the tent would be waiting for them. Hermione hadn't bothered to wear the invisibility cloak after their visit to the Ministry; Kingsley had made it official that no one was to attack or pursue her, and she was, until it was further determined, a free witch.

They weren't far from the tent, but Hermione veered away and walked to the edge of the water. Harry followed her without a word, and she led him to the place where he'd been hiding behind the boulder earlier. She sat down with her back against the large rock, and he leaned against it beside her and looked down at her.

They were silent for a few minutes until Harry broke the silence. "This is bad, but it's all going to work out," he said.

Hermione had been staring out over the water, but she turned her head swiftly to look up at him. "How could it work out?" she asked. "Snape would go to Azkaban."

"But you would be free," Harry pointed out, "and Kingsley said it himself; he's going to do everything in his power to prove Snape innocent."

Hermione let out a quiet, bark-like laugh. "Harry, someone doesn't want Snape free. Someone with power, it seems. Proving Snape innocent while fighting against someone like that, someone whose identity we don't even know, that could take years! And do you remember when Hagrid had to go to Azkaban? He wasn't there even a year, but do you remember what it did to him? Do you remember what he looked like and how he acted when he came back?"

Harry was looking at her in disbelief. "You're not going to do it," he said.

Hermione looked incredulous. "Of course not! Harry, I won't have an innocent man thrown into Azkaban for years just so I can be free. I'm doing just fine right now, and if I keep this up, the Ministry will never even come close to finding me. I'm almost as good as free."

"Almost as good as free," Harry repeated, frowning. "Hermione, you're a fugitive. You can't go anywhere civilized because you'll be hunted and chased and attacked. Do you want to live like that for the rest of your life?"

Hermione turned away, scowling at the water. "It's better than living a free life knowing that there's an innocent person in prison who is only there because of me."

They were silent for several moments. Then she looked back to him when he sighed. He shook his head. "You're impossible, Hermione Granger," he said quietly.

"Why, thank you," she replied just as quietly.

He laughed, but it was a sad, empty laugh. "If you won't do this, then how are you ever going to prove you and Snape's innocence?"

Hermione sighed and her shoulders sagged. "I don't know," she said in a small voice.

"I'm sorry I got upset," Harry said after a moment. "I'm just a bit worried about my best friend, see. She's kind of a wanted fugitive and I just don't want to see her running all her life."

Hermione smiled small. "Thanks," she said. "Sorry I'm so stubborn."

Harry laughed quietly, but this time it was genuine.

"There's more," he said, after a moment.

Hermione turned to look at him again. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"You said you wouldn't turn Snape in because you won't have in innocent man put in prison just so you can walk free. But there's more, isn't there? You have other reasons for wanting to protect Snape."

She was quiet for a moment, thinking over what he had said. "I suppose," she said at last. "I mean, I do owe him my life, Harry."

"No," Harry said, "I know that. But he only saved you because he owed you _his_ life and wanted to make it even."

Hermione shook her head. "Maybe he was paying his debt, but showing up anywhere near London was dangerous at the time, and he apparated right into a group of aurors and Ministry workers. _And_ he picked me up out of the dirt and carried me away, which was as good as publicly announcing that we were working together. That was the most dangerous situation he could have put himself in at the time. It seems like he could have forgotten his debt to me or ignored it. And think about it, Harry! He knew exactly where I was and showed up exactly when I needed help the most; he had to be keeping tabs on me somehow. And it's because of him that I haven't gone completely mad from being all alone out here in the wilderness!"

She looked up at him, expecting him to nod and accept what she said. But he looked shocked.

"He picked you up out of the dirt and carried you away?" he asked, looking utterly flabbergasted.

Hermione shrugged. "Yeah. Why do you look so surprised?"

Harry shook his head. "You told me he'd saved you, but you never said you were on the ground when he found you. You never said that he actually _touched_ you."

She shrugged again. "I dragged him out of the Three Broomsticks all those months ago. I had to touch him then. Why is that such a big deal?"

Now he was the one who shrugged. "Never mind," he said. They were quiet for a moment or two, and Hermione was just thinking about standing and going back to the ten when Harry spoke. "Speaking of you and Snape, what was that earlier?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What was _what_ earlier?"

He glanced back in the direction of the tent and turned back to her before saying, "You and Snape. You didn't say a word to each other. All you did was exchange a glance, but I got the feeling that you two had an entire conversation with _just your eyes_."

Hermione shrugged. "We don't talk much."

Harry gave a slow, exaggerated nod. "Obviously."

She turned on him suddenly. "Well what exactly are you implying?"

He shook his head. "Just that maybe you guys are more than just allies or two people who are only together because they _have_ to be. You might not even realize it, but maybe the real reason you won't turn Snape in is because he's actually your friend. And he means something to you."

Hermione felt her face go slack. Kingsley had said a lot, but Harry was the one who had given her something to think about. Was Snape more than just an ally to her now? Was he more of—dare she say it—a friend? Even if they rarely spoke and had plenty of quarrels and disagreements? But if he was her friend, then was Harry implying that she _cared about him_?

Harry could clearly see the confusion and disbelief on her face, and he added, "You did say you wanted to _protect_ Snape. Since when do any of us think Snape needs protecting?"

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but no words would come out. She was too unsure about what she thought of all this to find an answer.

But Harry wasn't finished. He didn't mean anything unkindly, but he was still making his own deductions. "And the way you guys looked at each other earlier, it was like you have some sort of _connection_."

Hermione let out a quiet, nervous laugh. "We don't have a _connection_, Harry. Like I said, we don't talk much. Instead, we watch. I guess we've been watching each other long enough to find words and entire sentences and statements in simple things like a glance or a look. That's all."

He shrugged. "I wasn't accusing you of anything, just saying what I thought I saw. I think you and Snape _do_ have a connection, whether you think so or not. I think you _do_ care about what happens to him, and not just because he saved your life. And I think he cares about what happens to you, even if he's just as unsure and unwilling as you are. All right?"

She didn't know what to say to that, so she just nodded. "All right."

They sat in silence for a few moments, both looking out over the water and lost deep in thought. Then they returned to the tent. Before they were within earshot of the tent, Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and stopped him from moving forward. He turned and looked at her questioningly and said, "Kingsley said I need to apologize, which is a start for me to be acquitted. We don't know what steps are necessary after that." After speaking, she raised her eyebrows at him, asking if he would lie to Snape for her.

Harry nodded. He whispered, "So you're going to tell Kingsley yes and give a public apology. What are you going to do when your month's up and you haven't handed Snape over to the Ministry yet? Tell them that you think he might be onto you and you need more time to convince him of your loyalty?"

She shrugged. "I don't know yet. I guess I'll cross that bridge when I get there."

Then she released his arm and they made their way to the tent. Hermione entered after Harry and glanced up. Snape was seated at the table, and didn't appear to have moved an inch since they left. But she knew that he'd risen and made himself lunch, and probably gone for a walk or done something useful with his free time while she was gone. She knew Harry saw the way Snape's eyes flashed immediately to them as soon as they entered the tent, and the concerned look in them when he saw Harry first, and then the relief that was faint, but still there, on his face when she entered after him. But she said nothing and made no move to let Harry know that she'd seen anything. Snape was only concerned for her safety because she was his ally and if she was captured by the Ministry then there was always the danger of them making her tell of the location of their camp and the route they were taking as they ran.

Harry stayed with them that night. He slept on the top bunk in Hermione's compartment, but they didn't exchange many words before going to sleep. However, Hermione lay there completely awake for several hours after Snape and Harry had left the conscious world. Kingsley's words played over and over in the back of her mind and she kept thinking it all through again, wondering if lying to the Ministry, lying to _Kingsley_, was really worth it. He was an ally, after all, not the enemy.

But when she thought about Hagrid's return to Hogwarts after his time in Azkaban she knew that this was the right decision. She could clearly remember the wild look in the half-giant's eyes, a kind of wildness that could only be born of fear and suffering. And it was too much. So she stopped thinking of Hagrid, promising herself that she would never let Snape suffer in such a way if she could help it.

It was around midnight when she finally started to drift off. Strange sounds and smells swirled around her, and visions danced before her only half-asleep eyes. She hadn't experienced this in a while; hadn't been caught somewhere between consciousness and the netherworlds her mind produced as she slept. It was confusing and she could find nothing firm or solid to hold to, nothing to call real in this seeming cloud of dream-land objects and ideas which were venturing forth even though she wasn't quite asleep yet. Random shapes moved around her, but they were always shifting and changing, morphing into something else.

_And then she saw him. Clear as day, he looked strangely detailed and solid compared to the swirling mass of confusion around him. He was standing there, the look on his face expectant, that of one who is patiently waiting for something. His hair was blowing about his face, but she could clearly see his eyes, which seemed soft and warm. And one corner of his mouth was twitching ever-so-slightly into the smallest of smirk-like, closed-lipped smiles. It was then that she realized that he wasn't just standing there with his arms hanging idly at his side; no, they were held wide open as if waiting for someone to run into them, to be held. _

_And that was when she felt it; a sudden urge rising from somewhere in the deepest, most secret, most guarded part of her soul. She _had_ to run to him, _had_ to feel his strong but gentle embrace, _needed_ to press her face into his chest and then look up into those eyes. She needed to feel him there, to press against him, to know that she was safe and protected. But even more, she needed to feel his arms around her, strong and warm and there, to know that he was safe as well. For a moment, something in her resisted the urge, fought back and told her that something was not right, that she shouldn't feel this way. A small voice in the back of her mind whispered hoarsely about how wrong it was for her to be so completely dependent on someone, about how dangerous it was trust anyone so deeply and with everything. But she felt herself pushing the voice and the nagging thoughts away, and in an instant they were nothing but a faint memory. _

_And then she was moving faster than she'd even thought possible, running, racing, even lunging, towards _him_. _He_ was all she wanted. _He_ was safety, _he_ was warmth, _he_ was love, and _he_ was everything. _He_ was her stronghold, her place to hide, her place to call home. _He_ was her solid rock amid the confusion of life and the frightening shapes and swirling mists that surrounded her. And when at last she found him and finally fell into his arms, she could feel it reverberating through every bit of her, coming from the very center of her being. It was a single word. _He_ was a single word. Home._

She woke with a jolt but didn't move a muscle. She just lay there, frozen, on her bed. Beads of sweat were clinging to the damp, warm skin on her forehead and upper lip, and the air seemed to seep so slowly down her throat and into her lungs, nearly choking her. Yet still she didn't move. She was completely awake. She remembered every small detail of her dream, but sharper and more real still was the memory of what it had been like to fall into his embrace. She could still feel his arms closing around her, strong and warm and pulling her even closer to his chest than before. She could still feel his heart beating right through his chest, and hers with it, as if they had melded into one. She could still feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, and her head with it, as he breathed. And she could still hear the whisper and feel the heat as he breathed into her hair, where his face was buried. But above even all that, she could still feel, in a painfully real way, the emotions that had plagued her in her dream. Her affections for _him_ were building up in her chest until it was nearly impossible to breathe, and her need to know that he was safe and that also he was there to protect her blocked out nearly every other thought in her mind.

The swell of emotion locked within her chest seemed to be making her throat close in, and images of _him_ swam before her eyes, which were watering in response to her trouble breathing. And still, she was frozen, too shocked and confused by her dream to find the will to sit up or grasp at her throat or open her mouth wider and attempt to take a deep breath. And then at last she could draw in large gulps of air. But even then, she wasn't satisfied, and something deep within her told her that nothing, not air or water or food or magic, nothing could satisfy her other than what she desired most. She could move, and she sat up suddenly, her hands clutching aimlessly at her throat. She didn't feel as if the deep breaths she was drawing into her lungs were doing her any good. She wasn't anywhere near any water, but she felt as if she was drowning.

She didn't know what was happening, or how to stop it or make it through, but she turned her head swiftly as soon as the curtains that separated her compartment and the rest of the tent were thrown open. And there he was, standing beside the bed, seeming to be part of the darkness and the shadows because of his dark clothing and hair. "Potter," he said, his voice steady and even but still loud enough to wake the dead. And then he was so very close beside her, leaning in and gazing desperately into her face, a sudden look of terror and fear coming into his eyes and twisting his expression. "What? What is it?" he demanded.

Harry jumped quickly down from his bunk and crouched beside Snape, next to the bed. "Hermione?!"

But as soon as she saw _him_, she could breathe again. Her throat seemed to open up, and the air felt good and cool in her lungs. She blinked rapidly, hoping to wish away the tears in her eyes before they could be seen. But she was too slow.

Harry seemed to be thinking about coming around Snape to crouch near Hermione's head, but just then the older wizard leaned down close to Hermione's face again and asked, "You can breathe?"

She nodded, still blinking, but didn't say a word.

He waited only a second, looking her over carefully, before asking, "Are you in pain?"

She shook her head, still saying nothing. She wouldn't meet his eyes, and she knew that he was beginning to notice. Before he could ask anything else or demand to know what was wrong with her, she spoke. Swallowing the lump in her throat and wincing at the sharp pain that came when she did, she said hoarsely, her voice cracking, "I'm fine."

Snape cocked an eyebrow at her, looking suspicious and as if he wasn't quite sure that she was all right.

But it was Harry who pushed his way closer to her now and asked, "What in Merlin's name . . ?"

He trailed off, but Hermione didn't need him to finish the question. "Panic attack," she said simply. She glanced at Snape's face, but avoided his eyes. She knew that even he would believe her, because she believed herself. It had to have been a panic attack. Nothing else made sense. She saw the quizzical look on Harry's face when she turned her eyes to him, though.

"But you've never had one before," Harry said. He looked terribly confused.

Hermione coughed into her elbow a few times, ignoring the sharp, stabbing pain that rose in her throat when she did. "It's just . . . I had a dream. I'm fine."

She saw the suspicious looks on her friends'—had she really just thought of Snape that way and so nonchalantly?—faces and added quietly, "It was a nightmare. It felt very real, even after I woke up. That's all."

"Nightmares have never caused you to panic before, though," Harry said, "I mean, not nightmares _you_ had, anyways."

Hermione gave a weak smile; she knew he was talking about their time in school when he had started having nightmares involving Voldemort, and she had panicked about Harry's safety and his future. But how to lie and convince him that this was different? She took a deep breath and glanced at Snape, managing to look away just in time to avoid his gaze, and let her eyes sweep across the wall of the tent beside her. "It was about my parents," she said so quietly that as soon as she'd spoken she wondered if Harry and Snape had even heard.

But they had. Harry nodded silently and Snape narrowed his eyes only momentarily before turning and leaving her compartment. Hermione turned her head to watch him disappear into the shadows, and she started in surprise when the fire roared to life in the main part of the tent and the silhouette of the wizard appeared quite suddenly. Harry took her beaded bag and made her some tea, and Snape sifted through her potions collection until he found what he desired, eventually adding a few drops of something or other to her drink before she was allowed to drink it. Harry brought her the cup of tea and she held it close, soaking up the warmth, as he sat down on the edge of her bed and watched her.

She gave a small, sad smile before lifting the cup to her lips. As she did, Snape returned, standing just inside of the entrance to her compartment. She didn't look up at him, but she could feel his gaze on her as she swallowed the first bit of hot tea. Even as the liquid slid down her throat, she could feel her sore places softening and the sharp pains in her throat stopped immediately. She turned to Harry and said, "I'm sorry if I scared you," and this time when she spoke her voice was steady and didn't crack. She sounded like her normal self.

He looked relieved to hear her regular voice again, but he only shook his head. "You're fine now. That's all that matters."

She never intended to look Snape in the eye, but found that she was suddenly staring right into those dark orbs, and that he was gazing right back. She hadn't met his eyes earlier because she'd been afraid that she would be unable to look away; the memory of her dream was still very sharp and crystal clear in her mind, and she could easily imagine Snape's arms encircling her once again. But now he was searching her face, watching and waiting for her to further explain what had happened to her. She saw immediately that he would accept her explanation if he had to, but that he would be searching for some better excuse for her panicking. She continued to stare into his eyes for a moment more, searching for some similarity between the cold-but-concerned black eyes looking at her now and the softer, warmer, dark brown ones that had been in her dream.

Severus watched her take the first sip of tea and saw her cheeks flush a healthy pink and the slight pain on her face vanish as soon as she swallowed the liquid. He was pleased; the potion had worked and she was already feeling better. His stared into her eyes, trying to will her to look his way, and a moment later her gaze found his. Aside from his fearful inquiries during her panic, they hadn't spoken in a very long while, and by refusing to meet his gaze she was denying him their only favored form of communication. He wanted answers, more than just the excuse of her dreaming about her parents. But now, when she looked him in the eye at last, she seemed confused, as if she wanted answers of her own. And she was searching, staring at him in a way she never had before, at least not when he was watching her.

But moments later, she seemed to give up her search and she let her gaze drop to the still-steaming cup of tea in her lap, which she brought to her lips.

He had been anxious and nervous all day, and increasingly after Potter's arrival and he and Hermione's departure. Even as he thought, Severus frowned. When was it that he'd started to think of his former student by her first name rather than her last? Well, at least he was only thinking; he wouldn't call her by name. They very rarely spoke anyway, so it wouldn't be a problem. But then he returned to his previous thoughts.

After the young witch and wizard had left, Severus had been even more anxious and suspicious, and those feelings only grew as time passed with the young people gone. He wasn't anxious about what Kingsley would tell Hermione or about what she would do, but rather concerned over her health and safety. When she and Potter had returned, there had been something about them, something that hinted at lies being spun when Potter spoke. But as much as he hated to admit it, Severus trusted Hermione. The young witch was smart and could be rather manipulative, but she was good and her morals would always sway her decisions in the right directions. However, even after the young people had returned, Severus' anxiety and concern had only continued to grow and had begun to take over his every thought.

After the meal he had retired to his compartment and waited until he heard Potter and Hermione fall silent, and only then had he wished for sleep. But for the longest time, it wouldn't come and he lay awake in bed, glaring up at the ceiling above him. And when at last he did sleep, he tossed and turned and woke often at the slightest thing, whether it was a cricket's chirp from outside or the call of a lonely owl in some nearby tree. And he'd woken to the sudden sound of someone breathing hard and loud and gasping for air. He'd known in an instant that it was Hermione he heard, and waited for a moment for Potter to wake and ask what was the matter. He'd thought it better that he stayed in the shadows and didn't get involved; besides, Hermione had probably just had a strange dream or perhaps she was ill.

But when Potter didn't wake and the labored breathing continued, Severus had swiftly risen from his bed and gone to stand outside of Hermione's compartment, hesitating for only a second before throwing the curtains open and stepping inside. And he knew something was very wrong the moment he saw her; pale, sweaty, and clutching at her throat. So he'd moved to her side and began to search for what was ailing her, so that he could find a remedy. And all of that had led to where he was now, standing near the foot of her bed and watching her sip the tea held in her shaking hands.

But he failed to notice that she had started to actually breathe again as soon as he was there, by her side. And she hadn't trembled so badly or looked quite so pale when his hand was gripping her shoulder as he leaned down and asked what the matter was.

Hermione looked up when Snape turned suddenly and strode from the compartment, across the room, and to his own. He closed his curtains behind him and disappeared, though Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that he wasn't sleeping. Eventually, she finished her tea and Harry cleaned the cup and stowed it back in her bag, which he set on the bedside table. Then he closed the closed their curtains and climbed back into his bed above hers.

As he did, Hermione whispered, "Harry, what time is it?"

There was a short pause and then he said, "It's two in the morning."

"Oh," was her only response.

"Try to get some sleep, all right?" he asked after a while. "Oh, and no more nightmares, please?"

Hermione laughed softly. "All right."

**My goodness, it has been so terribly long since I updated! I'm very sorry about that. My family has been very buy as of late and I've had very little time to sit down and write. I also wrote half of this chapter and got stuck, had to backtrack, rediscover the direction I'd wanted it to go, and start writing again. So if the first and second halves of this chapter seem incongruent or as if they don't quite fit together, you have my sincerest apologies. I'll go back and edit it later or when I've finished the story. **

**At any rate, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and whether you did or didn't I'd love to hear exactly what you thought of it. Any comments and corrections are always welcome! Please bear with me; I'm going to write whenever I have a spare moment, but as I've quite busy I can't promise anything. I will do my best to have a new update each week, but I can't give you my word. Thank you all for your support and you're still reading, so you deserve all of my thanks! I really do love and appreciate you all so very much! ~Taelr**


	9. Apologies and Annoyances

She was confused, perhaps even a bit afraid. But for what reason, he couldn't even begin to imagine. And her confusion and fear seemed to intensify whenever he was near her. This left him confused, and perhaps just a bit afraid of what had caused these new emotions to spring up in her.

It had been a week since Severus had wakened to the sound of Hermione's desperate, troubled breathing, and three days since Potter had left them. But she wasn't the same after her panic attack . . . or whatever it had been that happened to her. She hadn't spoken a word to Severus, which wasn't such a strange thing except that now she rarely met his eyes and seemed to be avoiding him whenever she could. And when she'd spoken to Potter, she'd spoken quickly and quietly, keeping silent most of the time. Now that Potter had left, she still made meals for herself and Severus, but she ate very little and as soon as she was finished she would leave the tent to walk or sit outside until it was time to come back and prepare the next meal.

And it scared him. Of course he would never have admitted it to anyone—he was just beginning to admit it to himself—but he had grown accustomed to Hermione's presence and her personality. And though it had happened quite without even _his_ knowledge, he had grown to respect her and he didn't mind her being there or the things she did so much anymore. But now she wasn't the same. And he found himself missing little things, like the way they managed to hold an entire conversation with just a glance, or the way he used to feel her gaze on him as long as he wasn't looking at her. He wasn't sure why he would miss these things, but still he missed them. But the most frightening aspect of Hermione's strange behavior was that she seemed unstable and as if she might do something drastic on a whim. He found himself fearing that he would wake up and she and her few belongings would be gone, or that she would go on one of her walks and she would never come back.

But Severus' perception of Hermione's confusion was miniscule when compared to what was really going on. Hermione's mind was nothing but chaos and questions, and a thread of fear had begun to wind itself around her heart. She was still very unsure of what her dream had meant, and though she tried time and again to brush it off and tell herself that it was only a dream, she couldn't shake the perfect memory of what Snape's arms had felt like wrapped around her, or the crystal-clear way she could see his eyes, soft and melted, watching and waiting for her to run to him.

But it wasn't just the memory of her dream. All it took was for her to see _him_, and the same feeling from her dream, that urge from somewhere deep within her came forth, and she wanted nothing more than to run to him. The urge was terrifying enough, but it wasn't all she had to worry about; her memories of the dream were clear enough at the random times when she thought of them, but whenever Snape was close to her, she could've sworn that she felt his hot breath in her hair and she could all but _feel_ the fabric of his cloak against her cheek, and she could hear his heart beating so close to her own. More than once it had become too much and she risen hastily from her seat and walked out as quickly as she could without breaking into a run.

But despite her fears that he might, Snape didn't press her for information or inquire as to why she was acting so strangely. In fact, he hadn't said a word to her since the night she had the dream. He had obviously noticed her abnormal behavior, but he didn't comment on it, and only his eyes ever asked her what the matter was. And he gave her plenty of space; they'd always kept from touching if at all possible in the past, and this practice was still applied in their every-day lives. But it was more than just not touching her; he let her take her walks and go on with her other new habits and never wanted to know why she needed to or what had caused her to start them.

But there was another fear, one that lingered in the back of her mind and was always there, ready to change the direction of her thoughts at any moment. She hadn't really accepted it yet but she was starting to realize that maybe her fear was right. And she was so afraid of being right and having to accept it that she did her best not to think about it. But, as always happens when someone tries to push away a single thought again and again, that thought makes a habit of always coming back. And eventually she was forced to stop and think it through entirely. She wasn't just afraid of what had happened in her dream, she was afraid that what she had felt in her dream had mirrored the way she felt in real life.

And that was more terrifying than anything else. What if she really did care for Snape? It was so bizarre, so _forbidden_, she had trouble even comprehending the idea at first. And if she _did_ care about him and she eventually _did_ accept that she cared, it would be nothing but wasted emotion; this was _Snape_ she was thinking about. He was cold. And cruel. And harsh. And unnecessarily unkind. And old.

And then Hermione found herself thinking the words, _and with good reason. From what Harry had said, Snape had a terrible childhood. _But there were other words ringing in her mind as well as those first ones. And those last words she thought about him, those were the ones that hit her the hardest.

He was in trouble. And in need of her help. _And she needed him._

Hermione was sitting at the table, staring at her plate and eating supper with Snape sitting across from her when that last thought occurred to her. He looked up at her when she inhaled sharply. Then he raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, but she rose suddenly from her chair and drew her wand, pointing it at her plate and murmuring, "Evanesco," before leaving Snape, and her empty plate, sitting at the table. It was still light outside, so she left the tent and went to walk along the bank of the river, kicking off her shoes and dipping her toes into the cold water in an attempt to steer her thoughts away from the wizard back in the tent and whatever emotions she might have towards him.

She took several deep breaths, breathing in the cool air and focusing on the forest around her. She groaned quietly, thoroughly exasperated with herself because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get Severus Snape out of her head. She bit her lip and stared hard at the water, eventually closing her eyes and concentrating on the way the gentle breeze blew around her. But as soon as she focused on the way the breeze moved her curls, she thought of Snape's nose buried in her hair and could feel his breath on her scalp once more.

She curled her hands into fists and threw her head back, closing her eyes tightly and wishing away the bothersome thoughts that plagued her. She jumped in surprise, her head snapping back into its usual position and her eyes flying open, when she heard his voice.

"Are you quite alright?" he asked.

It was the first time he'd spoken to her that week. She shut her eyes tightly again and said quietly, "I'm just fine, thank you." The words came out a bit sharper and more cutting than she had intended, but she didn't apologize or say anything to acknowledge it.

She expected him to leave, satisfied, after she'd answered. But instead he spoke again, and this time he sounded _closer_. "Are you sure?"

She took a deep breath. "Quite sure," she said.

Then she waited. But no sound of footsteps reached her ears and the hair on the back of her neck prickled; she knew he was still there, standing behind her. But how close w_as_ he standing? And why hadn't he left?

Annoyed that he was only making things harder for her, she kept her back turned and her eyes closed, and she didn't say a word. Several minutes past, and at last she could bear it no longer. "Why do you think I'm not alright?" she asked suddenly.

There was silence for a few seconds, and she wondered if perhaps he _had _gone back to the tent. But just as a wave of relief was beginning to wash over her, he spoke. "You are acting rather peculiar."

"Peculiar," she said, all relief and happiness gone from her as soon as she heard his voice. "Peculiar how?"

"Is it really necessary for me to list the specific peculiarities?" he asked.

She wanted to jump into the river and go deep enough that her head was under the water and she couldn't hear or see him, but she also wanted to turn around and leap to her feet and throw herself into his arms. He was simultaneously so aggravating and enticing that it infuriated her. But she did neither of the things she felt pressed to do. Instead, she hissed at him in response, "Yes. I'm afraid so."

She expected him to leave, annoyed at her behavior, but he did as she asked. "You eat very little these days," he began, and a chill crept up her back at the sound of his voice. "You never speak even a single word. You refuse to make eye contact with me, and you take frequent walks alone and spend nearly all your time avoiding me. Now tell me, Miss Granger, is there something I have done to elicit this behavior in you?"

Hermione stiffened. It was the first time in a very long time that he had called her "Miss Granger" rather than just "Granger" or "you." And if that wasn't unnerving enough, he had spoken her name and his last sentence in a very quiet, despairing voice. And he thought her withdrawing from him was his fault? Of course, in a way, it was. _He_ was the one in the dream that haunted her so, but it wasn't really his fault that he'd found his way into her dream, and he wasn't truly responsible for his actions in her dream. Sighing, she said just as quietly, "No. You have done nothing." There was a pause, and then she went on, "I apologize for my strange behavior."

She shivered when he asked, "Would you mind turning around and looking me in the eye while saying that?"

She took a deep breath and go to her feet, brushing off her jeans and turning to face him. She stared at the ground for several seconds and then she slowly lifted her gaze until her eyes found his. She hadn't let herself look at his face in what seemed like ages, and his eyes were full of unanswered questions and inquiries. Sighing once more, she repeated what she had said before. "I apologize for my strange behavior."

As soon as she had finished speaking she dropped her eyes, and she wouldn't meet his gaze again. Just looking at that terrible face of his was almost enough to make her lose all self-control. She'd come so very close to letting herself go and closing the space between them, even if it was just to cling to him and have her touch rejected. It was hateful, having to be so close to him. And it had been even worse, having to look him in the eye.

She gave a small, rather sad smile and still didn't look at him when she said, "Goodnight," and walked past him. She entered the tent, and closed the curtains behind her as soon as she was safely in her compartment. Then she threw herself down on her bed so that she was lying on her stomach with her face in her pillow, and she tried to think of anyone or anything but Snape, who she could hear entering the tent just as she reached her room. She paused to listen to him walk across the main compartment to enter his own and then she resumed her frantic attempts at distracting herself from the wizard she was forced to stay with. Groaning into her pillow, she wished with everything in her that the strange, confusing thoughts and emotions inside of her would be gone when she woke up the following morning. But in order for her to wake up to them having vanished, she was going to have to go to sleep.

**I know it's been a while since I updated, but here you are; the latest chapter! Please tell me what you thought of it. I'll try and update soon. ~Taelr**


	10. Dreams Can Be Terrible Things

Hermione was tormented. By day it was _his_ presence, and by night it was dreams that often mirrored the first that she'd had with _him_ in it. She knew that she was being rather rude and inconsiderate, and she sensed how uneasy he was since her panic attack, so she tried to pick up where they had been before her dream. She did her best to look him in the eyes, and more than once she was the one to start a conversation rather than sticking to silence. It was so hard to look at him, to talk to him, and to be near him. Everything about him seemed to call her to him, and it was getting harder with each passing day to resist that strange, desperate new urge to run to him.

Severus noticed immediately when she began reverting back to her old self. But no matter how many times she met his gaze and spoke to him politely, he knew that there was something she was hiding from him. And it seemed to be eating away at her, hurting her on the inside even as she put on a brave face and a smile and pretended that nothing was the matter.

Hermione finished eating and cleaned her plate, nodding to Snape before she turned to leave the tent. There were still a few hours before the sun would set and she needed some time to herself to think. They were still in the Forest of Dean, though they had moved the location of their camp. They were, in fact, camped in the very place where she had brought Harry and Ron when they were hunting horcruxes.

She had only just stepped out of the tent when she stopped to stare straight ahead. There, on a slight rise, was where Ron had appeared, having come back to them. He had just killed their first horcrux, and he and Harry had looked exhausted and Harry had been soaking wet. But she hadn't welcomed him with a hug or a kiss or even a kind word; she'd lost her temper and yelled at him for deserting them. But what she wouldn't give now to have Ron come back to her once again. It wasn't that she missed his being her boyfriend so much as it was that she missed her feelings for him. They had been simple and realistic and easy to bear, and they hadn't caused her pain. And it hadn't been a problem that she had feelings for him, both because he returned those feelings and because he was her own age.

But here she was, stuck living with Severus Snape, who not only failed to return her feelings, but was old enough to be her father. _What would Mum say?_ She wondered. Thinking of Ron and Harry and her parents and the dilemma she was facing was too much, and her eyes welled up with tears. She walked over to the tree she'd once leaned against in the winter time to keep watch, now to sit down and dry her tears. But even as she dried them, more tears were coming. Harry was right; what was she doing? She couldn't run her entire life. But she couldn't turn Snape in either. How was she going to get them out of this? This time she was definitely in over her head.

She wasn't sure when she'd fallen asleep, but she woke with a start looked around her when something brushed her shoulder. It was Snape. He stood over her, looking concerned with one eyebrow raised.

More than once, Hermione had had dreams like this. Dreams where she awoke to find Snape there, watching her in silence with such a concerned expression on his face. The first few times such dreams occurred, she had done her best to resist the urge to run to him. And sometimes, she had overcome it completely and woken up into the real world. But after she forced herself to start looking at and talking to Snape again, she began to let go when she was in her dreams. What did it matter if she let herself run to him then? They were nothing but dreams, figments of her imagination. Snape would never know, and as long as she could refrain in real life, there was no problem with it.

And she thought that she must be dreaming now. Everything fit; Snape's expression, the way he had touched her shoulder, the dark but not-so-threatening forest around them. And she'd let herself go before, allowed herself to give in and run to him. Of course it would hurt in the morning when she found herself in the real world, but that didn't matter now when she was faced with Snape, who was still standing over her in silence. So she let herself go again.

She was in his arms before she'd made a conscious decision to put herself there. Or rather, her arms were wrapped around him and her face was buried in his chest.

Severus had left the tent when Hermione didn't return, and he'd feared the worst. But there she'd been, right outside the door, leaning against a tree. He realized after a moment that she must have fallen asleep and he went to her. He waited for a few moments for her to wake, and when she didn't, he chose to touch her shoulder to bring her back from her dream world. She had started in surprise and stared at him and then around them. Then she'd looked at him for a good three minutes before she was quite suddenly on her feet and throwing her arms around him. He instinctively caught her in his own arms, taking a step back because of her momentum. What on earth was she doing?

He froze, his arms still locked around her. What was he to do? What was she thinking? Was this another panic attack? What was happening?

But even as a long list of questions began running through his mind, something deep in his heart shifted ever-so-slightly, and then he felt it. A strange, disorienting, warm, tingly sensation that started deep in his gut and slowly spread through him. He looked down at the top of Hermione's head, which rested against his chest. And there was a pleasure that rose up in him at the sight of her looking so content with her arms around him like that. A small, irritating voice in the back of his mind whispered that this was wrong, that everything about it was forbidden. And then it said something that made him snap. The nagging voice whispered that she could never love _him_.

Even while Severus was having such revelations, Hermione was experiencing a few of her own. All of her dreams had lasted mere moments, while this one seemed to go on and on. And while her dreams always felt incredibly real, this was something different and new. Of course she wasn't complaining; this was the best dream she'd ever had, but something was definitely different, and she was trying to figure out exactly what it was that had changed. But then she decided that she could ask questions and ponder things later; right now all that mattered was enjoying being in Snape's arms for as long as she could.

But Severus had a few questions of his own. He opened his mouth to ask if something was the matter with her, but when he said her name, he quickly realized that he'd said her first name rather than her last.

Hermione felt a shiver run up her back when he spoke. He'd never talked in any of her dreams before, but he was talking now. "Hermione," he said, and his voice was so quiet, so reverent, it made her lift her face to look at him.

"Severus," she answered, savoring the feel of his name on her lips.

Severus was rather startled, both by Hermione's behavior and his own. And . . . had she just called him by his first name? He blinked in surprise at her as she lifted her face and their eyes met. She seemed to be waiting for him to say something, and he managed to choke out, "A-are you quite alright?"

He frowned as it dawned on him that he had just stuttered. When had he, Severus Snape, ever been made to stutter? What in Merlin's name was it that had managed to instigate a stutter from him?

"I'm just fine," she said quietly.

His eyes had unfocused as he thought, but now they focused once more and he found himself staring into Hermione's eyes. Had they always been such a deep, perfect brown as they were now? But wait, had he truly just asked himself such a question? A small bit of fear began to grow in him; what was happening to him, exactly? What had caused him to think this way? But in the same instant that the fear sprang up in him, it was smothered by the sudden, overwhelming appreciation he had for Hermione's simple beauty. Her eyes and hair were shimmering in the moonlight, and the light played on her skin so that it seemed to almost glow in the darkness.

Never had he felt so compelled to move closer to anyone. Not even Lily had evoked such strong longings in him. And then he realized that Hermione was already in his arms. They couldn't get much closer than they were now. And yet, a new voice in the back of his mind told him that they could.

"Severus," Hermione said after a moment of silence.

He looked to her expectantly. "Yes?" His voice sounded husky, and the one word he spoke carried more emotion than all of the words he'd ever said to Hermione up until that moment.

"Are you alright?"

He felt the corners of his lips turn up in a smirk and heard himself say, "Quite."

She smiled up at him before resting her cheek against his chest once more so that he could see only the top of her head. It was all so absurd, so sudden, and yet he found himself wondering if she would mind so much if he pressed his nose into her hair. Without waiting to ask her, he lowered his head so that his chin rested on top of her head. Holding her there, so close to him, and being able to see her in his arms, to feel her there, it was too wonderful for words.

He let himself sigh into her messy curls started in surprise when she was quite suddenly gone from his arms. He had closed his eyes, but when he opened them he froze; he was lying on his back and above him was the canvas ceiling of the tent. He sat up quite suddenly, staring around his small compartment in the tent and rising to his feet. He swept the curtains aside and strode across the main part of the tent to where another set of curtains separated Hermione's compartment from the rest of the tent. Severus took a deep breath before opening the curtains just enough to see inside the compartment. And he stared; Hermione was lying on her side in her bed, her eyes closed and her breathing even. She was sleeping.

As he entered his own compartment and closed his curtains, a shiver ran down his spine.

It had all been _a dream_.

**Well, here you have it! A new update already. Please consider it my apology for my not updating in so long and for spending so much time on my other stories. Anyways, I know it was short but that was necessary for this specific chapter. I do hope you'll tell me what you thought of the new development? Hehe.**

**I think it's only fair to warn you that my family and I will be going on a little trip this week, so I might update until next week. Then again, we have a long drive ahead of us and I like to spend my time stuck in the car writing if at all possible, so the next chapter might be up sooner than you think! **

**Thank you all for sticking with me for so long and for being so loyal; it really means so much. I love you all so very much! ~Taelr**


	11. Fog

Hermione woke in the morning to the sound of a bird singing outside. She frowned as she recalled her dream from the night before. A sigh left her lips as she sat up, reliving the moment she had woken up from the beautiful world her mind had created as she slept. Waking up to find herself in a world where her former potions master cared for her and was concerned for her because she was more than just his ally.

She rose slowly, making her way quietly into the main compartment of the tent. And just like every day before today, she went about making breakfast for herself and for the man she secretly cared for. Just like every day, she did it as quietly as she could and wondered all the while whether or not he was awake yet. And just like every other day, she remembered every painfully clear, beautiful detail of the dream that she'd had the night before, the dream that, at the time of its occurrence, had brought her great pleasure and happiness. But a dream, nonetheless, that was bringing her pain and sorrow now.

Severus woke with a start and looked around his small compartment in the tent, sighing when he saw the all-too-familiar canvas surrounding him. And then he froze; he could hear_ her_ out in the main part of the tent, dutifully preparing their first meal of the day and tending to the chickens as she always did. He'd recalled his dream as soon as he woke, but at the quiet noise she was making just beyond the curtain to his compartment, it all came back, washing over him like a flood and forcing him to relive every perfect, vivid detail.

He took a deep breath and snatched his wand from the bedside table, stowing it inside the safety of his cloak and wondering if today he would be using it for more than reinforcing the enchantments around the tent or for simple repairs in the ancient canvas that stretched above them to make their shelter. Would today be the day that someone from the Ministry finally found them and they were forced to flee, leaving the tent and possibly even Hermione's bag behind them in their desperate attempt at an escape? Or would it be yet another quiet, simple day that passed in silent wonderings over when any eventful day would come?

He was quite sure that their reserve of food and water was nowhere near empty, and that rid his mind of the idea of Hermione's possible leaving for more supplies. He realized that his heart had jumped and skipped strangely at the thought of his former student, and his breath had faltered at the idea of her being in possible peril. What was it that had caused such a reaction in him? Was it last night's dream? _Absurd_. A simple dream should not be capable of changing his feelings and thoughts in such a way as it seemed that this dream had.

Shoving all thoughts of his dream or the strange things it had stirred in him, he pushed the curtains aside and stepped out, closing them behind him and taking a breath before turning to face _her_. And then it hit him. And when it hit him, it hit him hard.

Then, _there it was_.

The sudden, desperate urge to close the space between Hermione and himself. The frighteningly profound need for his eyes to find her face and remain there forever. The particularly intense longing that leapt up within him to take her in his arms and cradle her there, gently but firmly, forever. All he'd done was glance at her momentarily, and yet these inescapable new feelings had come into existence in him. Those same feelings threatened to grow and expand if he didn't obey them, perhaps even swelling so much that they would explode, and he along with them.

He dared not look upon her face, lest it result in the complete loss of what little self-control he still possessed. He managed to take his seat at the table without even a glance her way. But he knew even without looking that Hermione had already sensed his strange behavior.

And so it was that the next four days were spent with their positions quite reversed. Hermione was now the confused, befuddled half of their relationship, left wondering what was going on in Severus' head. And Severus was doing his best to avoid eye-contact and he spoke very little and tensed visibly whenever she uttered even a word.

In truth, it was quite eye-opening for both of them. Hermione came to understand how terrible it must have been for Severus to look upon her strange behavior from the outside, and she couldn't imagine enduring such a thing for as long as he had managed when she was the one who was acting unusually. And Severus came to the conclusion that Hermione must have had a dream or some experience similar to his own, resulting in her odd behavior. Hermione began to feel terrible and longed to apologize for the way she'd acted, but it never crossed her mind as to what might be causing Severus to act this way now. And Severus was lost in the horror and confusion that was his new world, stuck wondering whether Hermione had experienced a dream of her own and whether it had stirred feelings in her such as the ones that had sprung up in him.

And at the end of the week, it grew to be too much.

They'd gone the entire day without speaking, and Hermione was at her breaking point. Severus wouldn't look her in the eye, he wouldn't answer any of her quiet musings or comments, and he refused to acknowledge her presence aside from the occasional stepping aside to let her pass. They were in the middle of their dinner when she finally could stand it no longer. She stood up suddenly, pushing her chair back so quickly and with such force that it toppled over behind her. But she paid it no heed.

"I'm sorry for all that time that I didn't speak to you, or even look you in the eye," she said, sounding sincerely apologetic. Then her voice became something completely different, and her tone changed to one of exasperation and concern. Her eyes changed from those of an apologetic person to those of one who doesn't know what to think and is afraid of what they don't know, and she asked breathlessly, "Now, please, won't you at least answer just _one_ question?"

She hadn't pushed him for any explanation for his behavior before now, and all of the time she'd spoken to him and tried to look him in the eye she'd never pressured him. She'd never asked a single question, but she was asking now.

Severus set down his eating utensils and took a deep breath—a deep sigh that he thought she wouldn't hear, though she did—and slowly looked up from his plate, though he still refused to look her in the face. His voice was unusually cold and venomous when he said, "One question."

Hermione bit her lip and waited a moment.

Severus waited for her to speak, but she didn't. When she remained silent, he demanded in a biting tone, "Well?"

"Won't you at least look at me?!" The words burst from her lips before she'd thought to say them.

"No, I won't," he said quietly. After a moment's silence, he said, "That _was_ one question. Why, then, are you still standing?"

Hermione's voice had been loud and desperate before, but now it became nothing but a soft whisper. "That wasn't the question I'd intended to ask."

Sighing deeply once more, Severus gave in. He lifted his head, and his gaze slowly rose to meet Hermione's. He had intended to take only a short look at her face and then to avert his eyes, but he seemed quite unable to force his own eyes to do such a thing.

When he finally looked her in the eye, Hermione couldn't breathe. She might be the more normal of the two when it came to their recent behaviors, but that didn't mean she felt any of the longing for Severus any less than she had before. And it had been so long since he'd looked at her. She felt like a starving person who was at last allowed to look upon a great, beautiful feast that she was about to devour. She had looked upon Severus' face during the time since his strange behavior began. In fact, every time he'd avoided looking at her face, she'd had an opportunity to look at his. But looking at his face was nothing compared to this. Looking at his eyes was nothing compared to looking _into_ them. And there was no feeling like knowing that he was looking back. She wanted to memorize every fleck of color in those dark eyes of his, to know by heart every single bit of his face and the color of his eyes and the strange, melted way they looked now.

She reminded herself to breathe and forced herself to recompose her thoughts. And she knew the one question that she wanted to ask. She took a deep breath and refocused on his face, surprised that he hadn't looked away while she was lost in thought.

When she spoke her voice was hardly a whisper, so quiet that her words barely reached his ears.

"Was . . . was it something that I did?"

Severus watched her expression and the look in her eyes changing as she spoke. She looked so confused, so concerned over his behavior. So . . . _hurt_.

As that one word echoed in his mind Severus thought he could feel his heart—or whatever bit of a heart he had left, if any bit at all—shattering into a million pieces. It was like all of the fear and the concern and the pain she was feeling were suddenly laid bare and he could see it all in her eyes. And it felt like getting stabbed and then having the blade twisted around while still buried in his flesh.

And as if seeing her emotions in her eyes and on her face wasn't enough, he could see her hope crumbling as the seconds passed and he didn't answer. It was as if every bit of happiness and sureness and stability she had left in her depended wholly on his response to her question.

Knowing that he must answer soon in order to keep everything in her from deteriorating right in front of him, he spoke.

"You did nothing."

The words came out harsher than he had intended, almost as an accusation. But he had looked her in the eyes as he spoke, and he knew that she would believe that he was telling the truth. And he wasn't lying. He regretted the tone of voice that had accompanied his hasty words, but one look at her expression told him that his words alone had been enough to placate her. She seemed less concerned, even relieved that it wasn't her fault that he was acting so strangely. But while he still had the power and the will to tear his eyes away from her, he did. He rose quickly from the table, and turned away without a word. Then he retreated to his compartment of the tent, his unfinished supper forgotten.

And Hermione was relieved, happy, even, that she wasn't at fault. But the relief and the happiness lasted mere seconds, and the moment Severus was out of sight a crushing worry settled over her. If it wasn't something she'd done, then what in Merlin's name was it?

She cleaned and cleared the plates and food in silence. As if she didn't have enough to worry over, wondering what the people _outside_ of the tent were doing, the people she couldn't trust. Now she was worried about the person inside the tent with her, the one person she'd begun to think she could trust and depend on to always be a stable, sure thing in the chaotic, unsound mess that was her life.

When everything was clean she walked slowly to her own room and closed the curtains. Then she sat down on the edge of her bed and took out her wand and her bag, setting them on the bedside table.

She sighed; Severus was becoming more and more distant with every passing day—something she'd never imagined would bother her at all because they'd never been close before they started running together—and she had gotten a letter from Kingsley not long before, informing her on the date and time that her public apology would take place. It was in three days, and she would have to convince Severus to let her leave on a "supply run" in order to make it.

It would be risky, lying to him. Especially when the entire wizarding world would know about her apology by the time the sun went down on the day she gave it. Living in the middle of nowhere and spending their every waking moment in or around the tent, neither she nor Severus had any contact with the outside world—aside from Hermione's occasional letters to Kingsley and Harry, which Severus was unaware of. It was highly unlikely that Snape would even hear of her apology, which made it much easier to lie to him. But it wasn't just lying to him about it that was making her head pound and her hands tremble; after the apology, she would have only a month to come up with some brilliant plan to keep Severus out of Azkaban.

Sure, they could just keep running and hiding like scared rabbits in the forest, but they couldn't keep that up forever. And this was her chance at redemption for both herself _and_ Severus. The apology was just the start of that, barely the initiation of her shot at taking their names off of the _wanted_ list. She couldn't just throw that away, but she couldn't turn in Severus, either.

It took quite a while, but eventually her thoughts settled enough to allow her some sleep.

In the morning Severus woke with a start. Unsure of why he'd left his sleep behind so quickly, he stayed perfectly still, listening. But then his tense muscles became frozen with fear. Not fear for himself. No, fear for Hermione, who wasn't out in the main compartment of the tent as she should be. She was always there by the time he woke. Something was wrong if she was neglecting her everyday routine.

He left his bed quickly and burst into the main part of the tent, looking around in case she was there and he simply hadn't heard her. But she wasn't. So he moved to the curtains that separated her small part of the tent from the rest. He paused momentarily before them, and then he pulled one aside just enough to see inside. But her bed was empty.

Now he was desperate. Had she left, angry or hurt after what had been said the night before? The chickens had been cared for that morning, but that told him nothing. Hermione was the kind of person who would make sure that her animals were well cared for before she left.

So he left the tent. He was walking rather quickly, panicked enough to run but holding himself back in the hope that if he didn't let the panic get to him, she wouldn't really be gone. It was a vain, stupid hope, he knew. But it was all the hope he had left.

There was a thick white fog blanketing everything outside, and the air was more moist than usual. It was hard to see, and because of his panic and the extra liquid in the air, it was getting harder and harder to breathe. He wouldn't have seen her if she was ten feet in front of him, so he started to call out, trying not to wander too far away from the tent.

And then her name was on his lips, but his lungs didn't seem to be able to pull enough air into them to produce anything more than a whisper. But he kept repeating her name, kept whispering hoarsely into the cold clouds of fog around him. And as he kept going her name grew stronger and the word got louder until he was shouting it, her name leaving his lips as an anguished scream.

He continued to call, waiting for nearly fifteen minutes. But when so much time had elapsed, he became truly desperate and he dared to let the tent leave his sight, turning his back on the ever-fading dark shape that was their not-so-temporary home. And now he was running, trees appearing out of the fog as huge dark shapes. And he was probably running in circles, but just running itself made him feel a bit more relieved; it felt like he was actually getting somewhere, like he might be nearing the place where Hermione was.

And then it really hit him; she could have stepped out of the enchantments and apparated away to any place she liked, perhaps even some faraway country or continent. And when he came to such a terrifying conclusion, he stopped running. He had to lean against a tree for support as he took deep breaths and tried to slow his racing heart.

When he lifted his head he found that he had, indeed, been running in circles, or one large circle at least; the shape of the tent was not far ahead. But rather than letting himself into the enchantments, he decided to walk around the perimeter of them. Hermione was the one who had cast them, but he'd watched her and he knew how far away from the tent she'd expanded them. So he walked. And halfway round the enchantments, when he was walking near the back of the tent, a new shape came into view. It was neither tent nor tree, and it wasn't some creature of the forest, either.

He didn't think to say it, but his lips formed the word and he was speaking it in an instant. He said it quietly, but she seemed to hear, because she turned to face him, looking surprised.

"Hermione."

And while she was standing there looking perplexed and probably wondering why he was breathing hard and what on earth he was doing out there behind the tent, he was staring right back. But he only stared back for a moment. Then, quite suddenly and quite without his permission, his legs were moving and he was rushing to her. And in the same instant he was there beside her and he was pulling her against him and his hands were clutching at the cloak around her shoulders.

And she was too surprised at first to do anything, but then she decided that explanations could happen later, because all she wanted in that moment was to crush herself against him and hold him just as tightly and as desperately as he was holding her. So she crashed right back into him, her arms locking around him as she buried her face in his chest. And then she couldn't breathe, because she knew that this was most definitely _not_ a dream and yet here they were, standing in the middle of a foggy, chilly forest holding each other as if letting go meant they would be torn away and gone forever. And she was clinging to him and he was clutching her to him just as tightly, and even as she pressed her face into the front of his cloak she could feel him resting his forehead against the top of her head and burying his nose in her hair.

She realized not long after that he was trembling, and she lifted her head to look at him. "What are you doing out here?" she asked.

He looked away, suddenly seeming incredibly uncomfortable and awkward. But then he turned back and his eyes slowly found her face. And he dared to meet her gaze and stare into her eyes. "I thought you'd left."

"Left?" she asked. "As in, left here? For good?"

He raised one eyebrow. "Yes."

She frowned, and he looked away again, seeming ashamed and embarrassed. "You thought I'd deserted you?" It wasn't a question.

She hesitated only a moment, and then she lifted her hand and touched his cheek, turning his head so that he was facing her again. His eyes found hers a moment later and she said quietly, "I would never . . ." then she trailed off, lost in his eyes. But her meaning was clear.

**Hello there. Yes, it's me. I know it's been quite a while, and for that I'd like to apologize. I wasn't home and was without my laptop for about two weeks, and have only been home a week now. But I'll have you know that as soon as I got home I started writing again! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. And as always, any corrections or suggestions are totally welcome. Thank you all for sticking with me and reading my stories! It really means so much to me. ~Taelr**


	12. The Uncertain Future

Several moments passed and the two of them just stood there together. Her hand was still cupping his cheek and they were lost in one another's eyes. Then Hermione looked down and leaned forward, intending to rest her forehead against his chest.

But the moment she broke eye-contact Severus realized where they were and what they were doing. And a terrible dread crept up in him. What had he done? To care for Hermione was one thing, but to openly show it? To let her know? Before, it had harmed no one but himself. But now it would hurt her, too; they could never be together. He was an old man and a fugitive, and he was far from deserving anyone's love. And she was young and she was pure and she was being pursued by the Ministry even though she was not guilty.

But even as he opened his mouth to apologize and explain that this whole thing was a mistake, she cut him off.

"Severus," she whispered, sounding desperate.

He had been looking away, but he closed his mouth and his eyes found her the instant she spoke his name.

"I know this is a terrible way to begin again after just now, but," she paused, still looking at him desperately, "I have to admit something to you. I have to apologize."

"Apologize," he repeated questioningly.

She nodded, biting her lip. Then she released it, sighing before she spoke. "There's something that I've kept from you for quite a while, and now I just feel terrible about it, and I want you to know how sorry I am and . . ." she trailed off, realizing that she was rambling. He was looking down at her with a strange light of curiosity in his eyes, and she had to remind herself to focus on what she was trying to say. And then she told him the truth. She told him what Kingsley had said and she told him that she'd cooperated so far but that she'd been searching desperately for some way out of it, for some way that both of them could be pardoned.

And as soon as she'd finished speaking, there was some new expression on Severus' face that she couldn't quite understand. What was he thinking? Was he angry with her? Did he feel that she'd betrayed him? Those feelings would, of course, be completely valid and understandable, but she hoped that he wouldn't alienate her again because of them.

"Oh, I'm so, so very sorry," she said. "I never wanted to keep it from you and I never meant to do it this long."

But though to her he looked completely attentive and involved in the conversation, he didn't hear a word she said after she explained Kingsley's ultimatum to him. As soon as she'd finished explaining, everything else that she said seemed irrelevant because he suddenly knew exactly what he needed to do. And he knew that he would have to lie to her if he was going to do it.

So he allowed a smirk to form on his lips. "There is no need to apologize," he said after a moment of staring into her eyes. "You did what you thought was right."

He saw her smile, and though there was the slightest look in her eyes as if she didn't quite believe him, she continued smiling and she hugged him again. And standing there, with her wrapped safely in his arms, he set his chin on the top of her head and stared into the fog around them. This morning marked the first and last times he would ever hold her close or cradle her in his arms. Sighing deeply, he waited until she loosened her grip. Then he offered her his arm and they walked back to the tent together. But while Hermione's mind was racing with her new emotions and her plans for breakfast, he was carefully plotting exactly how to go about doing what he must do.

It would be treachery. Betrayal. He would be telling her one thing and doing another. He would be lying to her he knew that it was going to hurt her, but in the end it was all _for_ her. He had been to Azkaban, never as a prisoner, but as a guest there to visit one of those whose crimes had brought them such a terrible fate. It was a place full of misery and grief and fury, a place of lost hope. It was, perhaps, the closest thing to hell that there was on earth. To have such a fate was worse than to die. But he would bear it gladly and with fierce determination if it meant that she could be free.

And that is exactly what it meant. If he went to Azkaban, Hermione would be free. She would be free to walk the streets without fear, free to show her face in both worlds without worrying that she would be imprisoned or punished. She could live a full life. She could go back to that freckle-covered git, Weasley. They could live their lives together in peace and with much happiness. They could raise a family and she could grow old with Weasley and Potter, her two best friends. And she could forever be known as a good witch and not as a criminal. She could forget all about her time as a fugitive, and she could forget this undesirable life that they had taken up as they ran and hid in the wilderness. _She could forget about him._

As he sat down and watched her move about the tent, Severus sighed. Hermione was beautiful. Perhaps some people would not quite agree, as the mess of curls that hung about her shoulders and the fair skin and brown eyes she possessed were not by any means incredible or extraordinary when compared to some of the world's most stunning women. But when she stood alone and wasn't compared to anyone else, she could hold her own. Her curls were natural and they caught the light in just the right way making their dark honey color seem even prettier. Her eyes were like melted chocolate, and her skin was fair and pale, but still very beautiful. But her beauty was more than just who she was on the surface; she was smart and she was kind and she was good. She was young and she was pure and she had so much good in her and so many good things ahead of her.

Severus knew what kind of hell he was going to put himself through. But he knew that it would be bearable, if only because he would have the memory of holding such a beautiful person in his arms. And he had held more than her small form; he knew that her heart had been—and still was—his, and that he was holding it, as well. And in a while he was going to viciously throw it back to her, rejecting her and betray her. And she would hate him. She would have every reason to. He was going to lie to her, and when it was all over she would know about his dishonesty. She would see that what he had done was to ensure her freedom, but she would not forgive him. But the important question wasn't why she would hate him. In fact, a more important one happened to be, why wouldn't she?

He was old and he was rough. He had been very unkind to her so very many times. And even after she saved his life and they became allies and started running together, he hardly gave her the respect and the thanks that she deserved. He had treated her as if she was nothing, as if he was so much better than her. But really it was quite the other way around. She was so much better than him, and even though she didn't possess the years that he did and she hadn't gotten all of the chances that he had, he was the one who had made so many mistakes, and she was the innocent soul. She had been dragged into this, and he was going to get her out of it if it was the last thing he ever did as a free man. If it was the last thing he ever did as a living man, if that was what it came to.

Meanwhile, Hermione was busily preparing breakfast, wondering how life would change now that she and Severus were once again on speaking terms and now that they had both come to grips with their own—and with each other's—affections and feelings for the other.

And for three days, everything _did_ change. Severus was still snarky and occasionally a bit unkind, but he was more polite and more respectful than he'd ever been before. And though it was hard for even Hermione to accept, he was, in some ways, even mildly affectionate. Hermione never had any trouble adjusting; it was really just a matter of taking all of her emotions and affections that had been locked away within her for so long and finally letting herself express them.

Those three days were something Hermione would never have seen herself enjoying before all of this happened, but at the time they were perhaps some of the best days she'd ever had. She and Severus were both quiet around each other, just as they'd always been. But now there was an unspoken _something_ between them, there to keep them company during the long minutes and hours of silence and there to warm the atmosphere when there was pause in their conversation. And it was unlike anything that either of them had ever experienced before. Of course, Severus had never truly been in a real relationship like this before, and Hermione and Ron's relationship had always been rather public and there were always people around. But now it was just Severus and Hermione, hidden away in a tent somewhere deep in the forest with only nature, their thoughts, and each other for company. And it was peaceful with just the two of them. Nice, how there was never anyone to interrupt their conversations or burst in on a special moment.

But on the fourth day, everything changed once more.

Hermione woke to find an empty tent, but she was alarmed for only a matter of seconds; the moment she stepped into the main compartment in the tent she saw the note on the table. It was a short, simple one, scratched out in the same hand that Hermione had seen when Harry showed her the notes in the Half-Blood Prince's potion book. The potion master's writing had changed only infinitesimally over the years, and Hermione smiled as she read it. Severus had gone back to civilization to acquire several simple foods that they were running a bit low on, and as could be expected, he had taken Harry's invisibility cloak with him. He should be back within the hour.

So Hermione wasted away the time, making and eating breakfast alone and tending to the chickens before going on a short walk outside of the tent. When she got back inside she checked the time and reminded herself that it hadn't even been an hour since she'd found the note. Then she toyed with magic, transfiguring random items in the tent to living creatures and back again with a flick of her wand.

She started to worry just a bit when the hour was up and Severus hadn't return, but she told herself she was only paranoid. However, true panic set in when it had been four hours since she woke and he still wasn't back. She spent another few moments pacing in the tent before making a decision. But she had only just chosen which of her scatterbrained, not very well-thought plans she wanted to follow when a trig snapped right outside of the tent. She could have sworn that someone spoke the password to the enchantments around their camp, and a moment later she was sure that someone was walking very quickly towards the entrance to the tent.

She breathed a sigh of relief; he was back.

But she stepped back and lifted her wand in surprise and shock when none other than Kingsley Shacklebolt walked through the door. He saw her and smiled ruefully. "I came to get you and bring you back. The news is spreading fast and the Daily Prophet already wants to interview you. You're going to be recognized as a hero for putting Snape away at last, and in the meantime the Order is going to continue meeting as we try to find a way to free the poor old potions master."

Hermione was speechless. She lowered her wand and continued to stare at Kingsley.

"Clever trick," the Minister went on, looking at the tent around them. "I thought I'd considered every way you could have gotten him to us or fooled him into turning himself in or getting caught, but the imperious? I never even thought of it. And using him to tell us the location of your camp? Brilliant."

Hermione's mouth had fallen open as he spoke and as she comprehended exactly what he was saying and what he meant. But she closed her teeth with a _click_ and put an emotionless look on her face before Kingsley looked at her again. It was probably best if he didn't know that she'd had nothing to do with Snape's capture at all. _Or rather_, she thought with a bitter taste in her mouth, _Snape's turning himself in_.

"How on Merlin's name did you do it?" Kingsley asked.

Hermione had let her gaze and her thoughts drift, but she looked at him again quickly. "What?" she asked.

"How did you gain control over him? Severus Snape has been a spy and a hard man for very many years. Finding a way through all of those granite-like mental barriers must have been nearly impossible!" he was staring at her with a look of awe and respect on his face.

"Oh," Hermione said quietly. Then she raised her voice so that she didn't sound so shocked and sad, and she said, "It was. Wasn't easy at all."

Kingsley nodded. "Well," he said after a moment, "I regret to inform you that he's been taken to Azkaban."

"As planned," Hermione pointed out with a calm expression and a steady voice, in spite of the sudden ache that spread through her.

"As planned," Kingsley agreed. Then he looked around again and seemed to realize where they were. "But we've got to get you out of here," he said, another smile brightening his face. "I'm sure it will take only a moment to take down the tent and put it in that bag of yours?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course," she said. And it took only a moment. She released the chickens, turning them back into rocks as she put the tent in her bag.

She looked up when Kingsley said, "Ah, and here! I believe this belongs to you," and he held out the invisibility cloak.

Hermione took it from him, turning away and blinking away the sudden liquid that filled her eyes as she put the cloak in her bag with everything else. The last person to wear the cloak had been Severus, and now he was in Azkaban and she didn't know if they were ever going to get him out.

Why on earth had he turned himself in? Of course she knew why. But after those few precious days spent with him in peace and with their feelings out in the open between them, it seemed like it would have been better if he'd just left things as they were. She didn't care how long it would have taken, and she would have been willing to run forever if that's what it took. Because after Severus knew that she cared about him and she knew that he returned her feelings, nothing else mattered. Hermione wouldn't have been perfectly content with living in a tent in the wilderness forever, but it would have been bearable. And with Severus there, it might have even been incredibly enjoyable. But now all of that was gone, all because the man had taken matters into his own hands and gone to the Ministry, claiming that Hermione had sent him there and that she was turning him in.

And now, Hermione wasn't sure what was to come. Their tent and their life together on the run was gone now, and as she took Kingsley's arm and they disapparated, she wondered what was going to happen to her and how they were going to prove that Severus was innocent. Where would she go? What would she do? As the crushing darkness pressed in on her, she wondered where they were going. Who would see her first? And how would they react to seeing her? And how was she going to explain to Ron that even though she was free now, she didn't want to resume their relationship as if nothing had ever happened to interrupt or end it?

**Hello again! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'd love to hear what you thought of it. As always, any additions or corrections are always welcome, and if you have any suggestions for how I can improve the story or keep the characters more true to themselves, let me know. It has been over a month since my last update, and I'm really sorry about that. BUT most of the reason I waited so long to update was that I knew where I wanted to the story to go after the last chapter, I just didn't know how to write it. I had some serious writer's block and until today I didn't get hit with any sudden inspiration. But here's the latest and I'll leave you with the promise of another chapter to come much sooner than later because now I know how to go about writing what I'd like to write! **

**Thank you all for your continued support, and a massive thanks to all of you who have reviewed so far. You guys are really what make my sun shine and my world go around. I love you all, and I hope you like reading my stories just as much as I like writing them! Thanks again! ~Taelr**


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